Dissonance ON HAITUS
by whoaisme3
Summary: AU, AH, OOC: Bella Swan is a foster kid with a tough exterior and dark past. Edward Cullen is introspective, moody, and beautiful, and completely unavailable. Through a haze of music and cigarette smoke, they try to find a balance within the dischord.
1. Flood

This is my first fan fiction .. and I would be BEYOND thrilled and appreciative if ya'll give it a chance! I have about 5 chapters written so far, but I will post them one at a time, testing my response. thanks all!

Chapter One: Flood

_all I knew and all I believed_

_are crumbling images_

_that no longer comfort me. _(mjk)

Bella POV: 'Welcome to the house of the royally fucked," I thought to myself as my social worker pulled up in front of the Cullen Mansion. It was ridiculously massive, and looked as if it belonged on a Southern plantation rather than smack dab in the middle of a Forks, Washington forest. Dr. Cullen was famous for reeling in stray kids with nowhere left to go, and I was sure that the expensive house was just a part of the show. And from my vast experience, I knew appearances could be deceiving. When something was beautiful on the outside, it usually meant the inside was a piece of work. Drifting from foster home to foster home had taught me none other than that.

It wasn't as though I wasn't somewhat used to it all. The constant shifting of familiar faces, the packing and un-packing, the TV dinners and Laundromats and cat litter. I was used to the common perils of typical foster homes. Obviously, the Cullen mansion wasn't exactly typical.

But I was. I was probably the most typical foster kid who would ever walk through these doors. I had textbook written all over me. Drugs, sex, psychotherapy, fights; you name it, I'd done it. Or gotten kicked out because of it. Shield the eyes from the less tangible madness was how I usually let myself think of it. Try not to remember certain images; pictures of limitless earth and convalescent dawn, cacti and jackrabbits, the way the road curved just left, and then very sharply right …

I turned my head back to Sally, and I realized she was talking to me. I pulled my headphones from my ears and shrugged. "Missed that," I muttered.

"It's fine, dear," she said, opening her car door and motioning for me to do the same. "Dr. Cullen, as I've said, is an extremely generous man, and I don't think you will be left wanting here." She stopped walking suddenly, and turned to me with a somber look on her face. "I pulled a lot of strings to get you set up in a place like this, Bella. This is truly the crème de la crème of not only the foster system, but pretty much anywhere. Hell, I wouldn't mind sitting pretty in a home like this for a time!" She paused, and I knew she was recalling Dr. Cullen's face from the picture that was attached to my file. He was pretty striking. Plus, I caught a glimpse of some Harlequin romance novel tucked in her satchel, so I knew Sally was more than just a prim and proper social worker. It was too bad the father figure was the hot one- I would never be lucky enough to shack up with some gorgeous fake sibling. I sighed, and braced myself for the four other teenagers I knew lived here as well.

Sally was still talking. "So please, try to control your outbursts. I don't want to have to worry about you for a long while now."

'Yeah,' I thought. 'Not that much longer. 18 in in 7 months, and then I'm outta here.' I figured I could make do in these plush conditions. I'd had worse. 'Much worse,' I let myself think with a shudder.

Sally and I walked up the brick paved walkway to the Southern style winding porch, and rang the doorbell.

EPOV: Rosalie was looking at me through the reflection that was cast from the vanity mirror she was sitting in front of. I think she was talking. I saw her mouth moving; her eyebrows running up and down as if for emphasis on something. My song had had yet to climax, and I was pretty serious about not interrupting music that I'm listening to, especially one band in particular. I looked down at my Ipod, realizing I still had two minutes and forty eight seconds before the song ended. Maybe if I threw another shirt or outfit her way it would hold her interest long enough to leave me alone.

Suddenly Rose was at my side, pulling my Bose headphones away from my ear, and screaming at me. "ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME, EDWARD CULLEN?" She shrieked, anger flashing wildly in her eyes.

I glanced up at her, thoroughly disturbed that she had the gall to interrupt the song I was listening to. Especially since it was THE song.

"No, Rose, obviously I wasn't," I said coldly to her. I wasn't about to lie; it didn't matter to me either way what she thought. Which was funny … and somehow wrong, since I had been dating and fucking her for nearly three years.

"Always stuck in your own little head, Edward," she sighed, hands mounted on her voluptuous hips. If Rosalie was anything, she was certainly beautiful. However, her beauty was easy to decipher and surely conventional: the tits, the blond hair, the straight white teeth; all of it was something I'd easily see while flipping through a swimsuit catalog. So why didn't it satisfy me?

"I was not in my head," I muttered, finally pausing the song and taking the headphones fully off. "I was in someone else's."

"Well snap out of it completely," she instructed, flipping her blond waves with a flick of her wrist. "Carlisle's new stray is set to appear any minute now. And from what I hear, this one's no kitten. In fact, she may be particularly feisty."

_Oh shit_. I had completely forgotten there would be a new arrival today. It was just my luck: I had, after all, just barely gotten used to the company of Emmett these last few months. My sister Alice and I had been in it together since the beginning; and even though she wasn't my blood sister, I still felt biologically connected to her in some strange way. I guess maybe it was because she came to stay with Dr. Cullen so soon after me. And Rose … well, let's just say Rosalie arrived at a time in my life when a very particular itch was in dire need of getting scratched. And Rose certainly had claws …

"Yeah, got it," I said, finally allowing myself a full glance at the woman standing before me. She was wearing a just-barely-there silk robe, and it was parted seductively at the curve of each of her breasts. It was belted loosely, and as she was standing in a pose that suggested her frustration, a tan bare thigh was exposed. I reached my hand over, and, without looking at her, ran it up that thigh and into the dark wetness that was still hidden underneath silk. Just as I suspected, Rose was going without underwear. I allowed myself a smirk. "What?" she said, a hint of aggravation peaking through her voice, which had gotten suddenly huskier.

"Nothing," I muttered, allowing the hand to fully creep up and settle into her. "I just know you, that's all."

"Okay," she whispered, fully undoing the robe and throwing it on the metal bed frame. "But we have to hurry-new girl's gonna be here any second. And Carlisle won't be happy if we're not there to greet her."

"Uh-huh," I whispered, pulling her fully toward me. Whoever this new girl was, I'm sure she could wait just a little while longer while I got off. After all, she had better get used to it if she was going to live here. If Rose and I were anything, we were definitely not quiet.

I allowed myself one last thought of the new girl, though it wasn't a pretty one. _Hope this bitch knows what she's in for._ And with a throaty groan, I sank fully into the soft tanned curves of Rosalie Hale.


	2. Disposition

Chapter Two: Disposition

_mention this to me  
mention something, mention anything_

_... and watch the weather change. _(mjk)

**BPOV**: The inside of the Cullen Mansion was everything the outside suggested it would be. Plush velvet curtains draped over the ceiling high windows, Persian carpets centered on the floor of each room, a kitchen that fulfilled every cooking fantasy I'd ever had. Yep, these digs were definitely better than I'd seen. Ever.

Dr. Cullen was in the middle of a tour of his extravagant home. It was odd to me; none of the other kids were present, and there wasn't really a sign of them anywhere. Strange. Maybe they'd all left. I was sure I would have had notice of that happening somehow though …

As we turned the corner into what had to be the living room, Dr. Cullen directed my attention to a wide flat screen TV that simply overpowered the room.

"Of course, Bella, you're welcome to all of the accommodations that are provided. We want you to make yourself right at home here," he said with a toothy grin.

Dr. Cullen's picture really didn't do him much justice. He was more than striking: he was beautiful.

My heart vibrated quickly as I remembered other beautiful men I'd had in my life before. Beauty that wasn't necessarily obvious; beauty that was more than skin deep …

"Thanks, but I don't really watch TV," I said to Dr. Cullen, who merely smiled at my response.

"That's no problem, Bella," he chuckled. "Actually, not many of us here do. Except Emmett; he's usually got ESPN on without fail."

"Yes," Sally interrupted, clearly impatient to be on her way. Wanted to finish her romance and put Dr. Cullen in the place of the male lead, I'm sure. It was true: if women were capable of hard-on's, Sally would definitely be showing a little too much excitement below the belt right about now.

"Where are the rest of your children, Dr. Cullen? If my memory serves me, I believe there were four others …?"

"That is correct," Dr. Cullen said. "In fact, I'm not entirely sure where the rest of them are. Emmett's probably off at the batting cages, as he usually is, and Alice is most likely with her boyfriend. I thought Rosalie and Edward would be here today, but I suppose not. Now, Bella, let me show you your bedroom."

And with that, Dr. Cullen whisked Sally and I up an enormous staircase that went against the wall of the home, and then circled massively into the center. As we walked, I caught a glance of the pictures that lined that walls. Many were of Dr. Cullen with a woman who looked young and somewhat maternal; if a picture could be a giveaway to a characteristic like that.

Most of the others were portraits of a boy; a young boy with shocking green eyes and disheveled hair. He never looked at the camera. There was a faraway look to those eyes that glanced down-ward and to the side. It reminded me of something, but I couldn't quiet grasp it at the moment.

"Alright, Bella," Dr. Cullen announced. "To the left we have .."

But Dr. Cullen couldn't finish, because as he was talking, he was interrupted. By a scream. No, a cry. No, BOTH. Someone in this house was having an orgasm.

Sally shifted nervously. "Is that what I think it is, Dr. Cullen?" she asked, looking as if she'd like to do the same with him at that very second.

And I couldn't help myself. I burst out into heaving laughter; a laughter so deep I couldn't remember the last time I found anything so funny. I mean, seriously- to catch that awkward and, well, _horny_ look on Sally's face was absolutely priceless.

"EDWARD!" the orgasm cried. _Ahhh_, I thought. One of Dr. Cullen's mysterious disciples.

"My apologies," Dr. Cullen stammered. And with a graceful sweep, we were all heading down the staircase again. "If you don't mind, Bella, I'll show you your bedroom in a few moments."

"Nope," I said, rolling my eyes. "Don't mind one bit."

***

A few hours later I was safe in the room that Dr. Cullen had proclaimed as my own. I truly wasn't expecting all of this. I had only had my own room once, and that was many, many years ago. This one was small, with walls painted a soft shade of green and huge windows that seemed to be a trademark of the house. It had taken me only a few minutes to unpack, much to Dr. Cullen's surprise. As he had offered to go to Sally's car to get the rest of my stuff, I had pointed to the black canvas bag that was slung over my right shoulder, and said, "This is it."

I had been the owner of many possessions once. But, as I've learned from traveling from place to place, possessions are fleeting. You are prone to lose things along the way, and you can't feel too sorry about all of that. There were only a few items that were truly important to me … only a few things I would never let myself lose.

It was 5 pm and already dark. There was a resonating chill throughout my room that sent me into a brief spasm of shivers. I wondered where the others were, and decided the time had come for me to explore on my own. After shrugging on a sweatshirt, I went through my bedroom door to snoop through the rest of the house.

**EPOV**: I really didn't know Carlisle still had all that in him. The last time I'd seen him that angry … well, honestly, I don't know if I'd ever seen him so pissed. But really … what was he to expect? He knew the situation Rose and I had. He had never minded, until now. What was it about this new girl? And why was everyone so keen on interrupting everything I was doing just to talk some shit to me about her?

The house was always quiet at dusk. It was my favorite time of day. Carlisle always worked night shifts at the hospital, Emmett usually had practice for one of his many sports teams, Alice was always at Jasper's, and Rosalie was either doing her stint at the makeup counter or off doing some shopping.

Twilight. The house nearly vibrated with silence, and I was grateful.

Suddenly I remembered the other addition, the new girl. She must be here somewhere. For a brief second I was overcome with annoyance, as I imagined this new figure interrupting into my daily routines with something else.

It was quite irrational, as none of it was truly her fault, and she was, of course, unaware of the emphasis I placed on routine. But something deep within blamed her with severity; as if I knew without a doubt that this girl was going to change everything that I already had going for me.

Illogical, I know. But I couldn't help it. It was as if there was a monster within me, already plotting ways to scare her off and get rid of her. Definitely not the person Carlisle had raised.

I was sitting in the kitchen, perched on a bar stool with my elbows braced on the counter of the island. Headphones on, always on, and I was writing in my notebook as I always did at this time.

I sat with the windows before me, as if for once there would be a sunset worth seeing. But here, it was always the same; a slow transition into night that always left me wanting more; no colors, no sunlight, no reflections. Just dim light into no light. It was tiring.

For a moment I wondered why I held my routines so close, when they never left me truly satisfied. And with that frustrating thought, I decided it was time for a cigarette.

With my notebook in hand, I walked through the kitchen door that led to the side of the house, and went out. I looked up, and to my surprise I realized that someone was already out here, sitting on the same exact bench in the same exact spot I'm always at. Everyone knows that spot is mine. So what the fuck?

It was a girl, and her back was facing me, and with a grimace I realized that this had to be New Girl. Her hair was long, brown, and wavy, and she wore it flowing against her back. Her attire was plain; black everything, and with an almost laugh I looked down and registered the similarities in our dress. For a second, I debated; wondering whether or not to introduce myself to New Girl or go find another spot to smoke. Fuck that. This was my home, and most definitely my spot. New Girl would discover that soon enough, no doubt about it.

I walked over to her, noticing that her head was bobbing slightly, and for a brief second I wondered if there was something mentally wrong with her. Right afterwards, I realized she was, in fact, listening to music, with the shittiest looking headphones I'd ever seen sitting over her ears.

She's hadn't noticed me yet, as her eyes were softly closed, so I gave myself a moment to look her over. There was nothing particularly remarkable about her; she was small, nearly petite, with pale skin that would reflect in the almost moonlight. In her hand she held a Walkman, and all of a sudden, I couldn't help myself. I burst out into a fit of laughter.

The girl's eyes opened suddenly, and a look of surprise and then understanding seem to pass over them. They were a brown, a warm brown; a brown that made me almost forget the biting cold that was penetrating through the air. Weird. What the fuck was wrong with me? Must've been the song …

She pulled her headphones down and seemed to be giving me the once over I'd just given her. "What's so funny?" she asked almost haughtily, as if she were daring me to respond.

"Nothing," I chuckled. "It's just that … well, it's your Walkman."

With confusion, she looked down at the aged CD player that was sitting in her hands. "So?" she wondered.

"I just haven't seen one of those since the new Millennium began. That's all."

There was a flash of anger that seemed to pulse from her in that very second. I wondered if I should regret my words.

"Sorry, buddy," she said angrily. "Not everyone grew up in a mansion. Not everyone gets Ipod's and flat screens thrown at them like it's nothing."

Now it was my turn to get angry. Who the fuck did this little girl think she was? Accusing me … thinking she knew about my life? "You," I pointed at her, my finger nearly an inch away from her face, "don't know shit about me. Got it?"

"Likewise," she said, obviously not at all intimidated by my little speech. What was it going to take for this bitch to realize her place?

Without breaking the staring contest we were suddenly having, the girl reached into the pocket of her sweat shirt and pulled out pack of smokes and a book of matches. I suddenly frowned, surprised that this girl would be a smoker. Well, maybe I didn't know anything about her, but I guess I was just surprised that anyone besides myself was a smoker. I thought I was the only person in America who still lit up.

She seemed to read my thoughts, as all of a sudden her expression changed. "Want one?" she asked, holding the pack out to me.

"Naw," I said, pulling out my Camels. "I'm taken care of." I pulled out a smoke and flicked my Bic to light it. The girl smiled at that, and I caught a flash of white teeth that were previously hidden behind her pink lips.

"What's your name?" I asked, all of a sudden realizing I couldn't address her as New Girl forever.

"Bella," she said. "Bella Swan. Yours?"

"Edward Cullen," I said.

**BPOV**: Well of COURSE this was Edward. The infamous Edward Cullen. Infamous if not in the outside world, but absolutely throughout the halls of the Cullen mansion. It was my turn to smirk at the green eyed boy, the boy whose face was also represented in all of the pictures that littered the walls of the staircase.

"What's with the smirk?" he demanded, growing obviously annoyed by my mood swings. It was a problem, I know, to go from insanely pissed one second and then thoroughly amused the next. I was working on it. Not too adamantly, but I was aware of it.

"It's just," I said, mocking the same words he chose earlier with me, "Edward. Your name. That's all."

He looked bitterly confused, and I found myself actually having a good time teasing this Edward.

I was wrong with my previous prediction about there being no attractive boys in this house: Edward was definitely good looking. That was an understatement, I scolded myself, as I tried to look him over subjectively without letting attraction seep through.

It was those eyes, though; those remarkable green eyes that drew me in. Not to mention his matted bronze hair, which was tangled and quite possibly extremely dirty but on the same token looked extremely touchable. He had a thin but muscular frame, and was wearing all black, just like myself.

He smoked his cigarettes lazily; breathing in the smoke with nonchalance and blowing it out slowly through his nose first, and then a hint through his mouth. It was almost seductive. I was almost not looking at him subjectively.

I was almost thinking he was kind of beautiful.

Therefore, sarcasm, my trusted and true support system, was the only way to respond.

"I'm not sure I understand …" he murmured, when, all of a sudden, shocked understanding washed over his features. His forehead crinkled with embarrassment, and his eyes cast downward for a moment. Then, as if realizing he had nothing to be ashamed of, his head flew back up, and he looked me directly in the eyes.

"Ah, so you overheard my little transgression with Rosalie, I assume," he said. I was a little moved by his sharp change in diction; it was as if he wanted to impress me with his fluid use of language. Two can play that game, I thought.

"Certainly," I said with a glowing smile. "In fact, I believe your little 'transgression,' as you call it, will be starring in many of my social worker's secret fantasies. Bravo, Mr. Cullen, bravo."

He seemed to peer at me with interest, and then shrugged as if he couldn't be bothered any longer. "Well, sorry if that shit offends you," he said, seemingly back to his regular self. "It's just the way it rolls around here."

I stood up, decidedly done with this conversation, and done with Edward Cullen, at least for the time being. "Sorry to disappoint you, Edward," I said, a hint of a sneer at the edge of my voice, "but it takes a lot more than a faked orgasm to offend me."

And with that, I stalked off, leaving Edward to pick up his jaw off the ground. I took one last drag off my cigarette and threw it into the hedges. _Let that arrogant bastard chew on that for awhile._

**EPOV**: Well, shit. I was honestly quiet speechless. I'd had no idea that this new girl, this _Bella_, would have such a penchant for sarcasm. It was quite refreshing, really. Although I've had my fair share of sparring with women throughout the years, no one has been able to hold their own like that. And no one, certainly no one, has left me speechless.

I found myself impressed.

Not that I go out of my way, but people, especially women, are intimidated upon first meeting me. I guess it's my whole 'I don't give a fuck what you think' attitude that drives them away.

But this girl, this _Bella_, was not intimidated. She didn't seem scared of me in the least.

Shit. Was I losing my edge?

I considered all of this as I finished smoking my cigarette. There was definitely something intriguing about her, something other than an impressive knack for banter.

She wasn't beautiful, I suppose; not the way beautiful is usually described as. Not like Rosalie. But attractive … in her own way. In a warm way. What was with it with that word again? Especially odd to think it, especially as I was sitting in the freezing dark, wishing I'd been thoughtful enough to throw on my jean jacket over my hoodie.

I took one final drag and stubbed it in my ashtray, and walked back into the house. Although I was still a little unsure what to make of our conversation, I found that I was no longer seething with irritation that my routine had been intruded upon. In fact, I thought, with a bit of surprise, the intrusion felt quite welcome.

But, if I were to be completely honest with myself, I did find that I was somewhat embarrassed that Bella had heard what went down with Rosalie. But I couldn't put a finger on as to why.

Just in that instance, Alice breezed through the front door, her lithe and grace form hardly taking any physical space, but, as usual, it was hard not to watch her. She smiled broadly at me as she made her way to the kitchen where I was sitting again. Then sudden realization hit her, and she looked around a bit frantically.

"The new girl!" she shrieked a bit melodramatically, hitting a palm lightly to her forehead. "I almost completely forgot. Have you seen her yet? Where is she?"

"Slow down, Alice," I laughed. "I have met her, yes. She's … interesting. And I have no idea where she's at now."

Alice looked at me worriedly. "What did you do to her, Edward? I swear to God … can you at least try for once to make things livable around here?"

"Me?" I said, pointing to my chest with innocence. "I did nothing. And I don't think you have to worry too much about that one. She seems like she can hold her own."

Alice poured this over. "I think I remember Carlisle and Rose mentioning that she was supposed to be a bit intense." She shrugged and the smile was back. "Did she set up shop in the empty upstairs bedroom?"

"I'm not sure, but it's probably a likely guess."

OF COURSE Alice was excited. She'd never had very many female friends, and the prospect of potentially having one was enough to make her jump up and down.

I decided that if for nothing else, for my sister, I could do my best to be cordial.

"Well, I'm going to find her. See if maybe I can make her a grilled cheese or something. See ya."

And off she went, bounding up the stairs with the grace of a dancer. I smiled at the idea of Alice having someone in her life other than Jasper and myself; someone she could do girly shit with. Rose was definitely not someone Alice ever bonded with; Alice never understood my little arrangement with Rose, and in turn Rose was jealous of the friendship Alice and I shared. All in all, it didn't make for a real connection.

I thought about Bella for a moment more, and then briefly considered what it was that she was listening to. Probably some poppy girly shit. Music was an area I was sure we would have nothing in common in.

I flipped my music back on, immersing myself into the pulsations of rhythm that transpired, and let it guide me into a cascade of darkness.

-------

ok darlings … so there goes chap 2! I almost split this up into two diff chaps, but I figured it worked all together just fine.

for those of you who have reviewed … THANK YOU soo much. it really makes me happy. and I know the Rose and Edward thing was a little hard to read (trust me … even harder to write) but it will all tie together quite nicely.

another little tidbit: obviously, my bella is a bit hard, but I guess I like the idea of her being a tough as nails feminist, at least as far as this story is concerned. (and maybe that's my women's studies major peeking through)

Thanks again to everyone who's taken the time to read and review this story … it makes me sqeee with loads of OME's!

Oh… and I'm wondering if anyone is catching on with the intro quotes and title names? I swear, it's relevant …


	3. Wings for Marie

So I realized I've yet to add my disclaimer … totally forgot! So here goes: **I am not Stephenie Meyers, I own nothing, get no money, etc. etc. **

A/N at the end of the chapter :)

* * *

Chapter Three: Wings for Marie

_daylight dims leaving cold fluorescence  
difficult to see you in this light  
please forgive this selfish question, but  
what am I to say to all these ghouls tonight? _(mjk)

**BPOV**:

It was only after 7 and I was already ready for bed. It felt as though I was never not exhausted. I suppose after the day I'd had, a little fatigue was to be expected.

My little exchange with Edward Cullen almost got the best of me. If I let myself really think about it, I hadn't actually wanted to walk away from him.

But I wasn't prepared for the next step that conversation may have taken. What I know is, it's always best to keep things brief, thus keeping relationships distant and safe.

After the accident, I'd found it near impossible to get close to people.

Not that I really tried.

I briefly thought of the boy I'd left behind; the boy who blatantly told me he couldn't handle me anymore. I thought of the dozens of people I'd encountered throughout my years in the system.

I thought of my parents, and wondered what they would think of their girl now.

Considering my flippant luck with people in general, I wondered how I would be received by Edward. I didn't really want Edward Cullen to know me. And I also wasn't sure if I really wanted to know him.

I'd met guys like him before, I was sure of it. Guys who went around, acting like they were God's gift to women; little rich boys who scoff at everyone else and are too busy to take the time to ever look beneath the surface of things.

Nope. Not interested.

Except, if I were to allow myself a moment of honesty: I actually really was.

I told myself it was just those eyes; those eyes that were still reminding me of something, that had almost gotten the best of me.

And besides, if he were to ever get to know me, the real me, I doubt he would even ever talk to me again. For the zillionth time that night, I chided myself for being so ridiculous and actually imagining further conversations with this boy.

A soft rap at the door pulled me quickly out of my thoughts. I wondered if it was Edward … but why would he come up to my room? I would think his transgression would be further occupying him.

"Come in," I said, and in walked the most petite girl I'd ever seen in my life; a girl with shiny spiked hair and the biggest smile lighting up her features.

"Hi," she nearly squealed, and with everything in me I hoped this girl was not the same person who had been screaming Edward's name earlier.

"I'm Alice. You must be … Isabella?"

"Um, Bella, actually. Dr. Cullen told you my name?"

"Yeah! Well, when I heard a girl was coming to stay with us, I just got a little overly excited," she confessed, looking slightly embarrassed. "It's just… we have enough guys around this place, and I'm always looking forward to someone who doesn't walk around scratching their balls."

I smiled at her. "I'll make sure to keep the ball scratching in check."

She laughed loudly; a soft, musical laugh, one that actually made me want to smile along with her. "Well, Bella," she said, almost as if she were trying my name out, "I was just wondering if you were hungry for anything? We're actually kind of low on supplies in the kitchen, but I could whip you up a stellar grilled cheese in no time."

" Uh thanks," I said. "I'm actually not really hungry right now. Kind of just ready for bed."

"Right, okay. Well, listen. I know tomorrow is going to be weird for you, going to a new school and all, but I could definitely show you around. And you could eat with Jasper and I at lunch too!" she said, almost too enthusiastically.

"Thanks, that's really nice of you." Alice did actually seem genuine, which I found surprising, as not many people, especially teenage girls, set out to be legitimately nice to a new comer. Maybe there was hope for this place after all.

"Well then, Bella. See you tomorrow!" And with a soft wave, Alice left my room.

It made me a little less anxious to imagine the possibility of having someone to help me out around here, and even the faint idealization that that someone may actually turn out to be a friend. There was nothing to dislike about Alice, at least nothing I could get from first impressions. In more dreadful anticipation I realized that I had only met two out of the four Cullen kids that lived here.

I knew there was Emmett, the supposed jock, and wondered what he would be like, and how hard I would have to try to avoid him.

And then … there was the voice of the orgasm, Rosalie, as Edward had mentioned her name earlier tonight. I had a feeling I didn't want to know her at all. I had a feeling I was going to absolutely despise her, so much so that it might throw off the balance of actually finding a friend in Alice.

Was it that I was jealous? I didn't think so. It was just the vibe I had gotten from Edward … a vibe that suggested that he and Rosalie were not actually a couple; that they weren't in any sort of romantic relationship whatsoever.

A vibe that suggested that their connection was founded on the sole purpose of getting each other off; strictly and purely _sex_.

It kind of disgusted me, but for some reason I didn't exactly blame Edward. I had never even met this Rosalie chick, and already I was considering her low moral standards.

Not that I was a sexual prude by any means. But it took a lot of time to take some of my walls down, and after what had eventually happened with him, those walls were firmly back in place.

For a careless moment, I let myself go, and I knew with everything in me that Rosalie was going to be just as physically beautiful as Edward. Thinking that made me despise Edward a slight bit more, as his focus on physical attractiveness probably had something to do with the cocky attitude he'd approached me with tonight.

_Fuck that_, I sighed, willing myself not to care. I pushed Edward out of my mind and instead thought of tomorrow, and the other disastrous possibilities that loomed there.

I groaned when I thought of the new challenges tomorrow would present. I had almost forgotten that I would have to be starting all over at a new school here. But then again, there's really not much to it, and I had thorough practice becoming a lost face in a crowd.

And as long as Sally had done most of the ground work and gotten me enrolled in some of the elective classes I'd requested, then hopefully all would be manageable.

I considered in somewhat wistful expectation the possibility of Forks High School's senior level English class options. Sally had told me that they did, in fact, have a creative writing class, so that brought my spirits up a bit. The last school I'd attended made due with only a remedial level literature class, that considered Oprah's book club picks great and deserving reads.

Not that I had anything against Oprah: I'd just always been prone to the classics.

I had always been a good student, even though school in itself represented something I wasn't too fond of: socialization. High school students are just like a herd of sheep; moving through the halls; dressing the same and talking the same. If attending five different schools through the course of your adolescence doesn't prove that to you, then I don't know what will.

As I got dressed for bed I let my mind wander again to Edward Cullen. I reminded myself that each one of us that lived here was from the system in one way or another, so it was very likely that Edward had some darkness all his own. _Bullshit_. He's probably been wrapped up in velvet curtains and Persian carpets much too long to remember any of that.

I turned out the lamp and settled into the covers, which, just like everything else in this house, were plush and white and definitely expensive. I pulled my headphones over my ears, and, as I always did, fell asleep with my music softly soothing me into unconsciousness.

**EPOV**:

"So give me all the dirty details," Rosalie said, curling up at the end of my bed and again interrupting my current train of thought. I was in the middle of writing; again attempting to finish some of the word I'd done earlier. But it was really fucking difficult to concentrate with Rosalie sprawled out on my bed, wearing next to nothing, yammering on and on about the new girl.

"Rose, I told you. I told you that there's not much to tell. Why don't you be a doll and go introduce yourself to her so I don't have to play mediator anymore tonight?"

"No," she sighed. "That's boring. I'd rather hear your take, and then when I have to meet her tomorrow, I'll have your review for consideration."

I stared at her blankly. "You've really given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

She laughed, throwing her head back dramatically, shaking her long mane of blond waves in the process. "You know me, Edward. I don't usually play nice with girls. Just interested to see how long this one will last with you and me holding the reigns."

I was overwhelmed with sudden and intense anger, and oddly enough, it was because I felt the strangest desire, no, _need_, to protect this Bella. "Rose, you stay away from her," I warned, my words almost shocking me as they came out with venom. "She doesn't need you, or me, fucking with her. Do you understand?"

Rosalie looked at me as if she thought aliens had just come and taken over my body. "Jesus Christ, Edward. I was just joking around. You know I would never do anything to upset Carlisle."

"I don't fucking care what you say," I threatened, my heartbeat hitching, as I wondered myself if I really had been overtaken by some alien force. "I think this girl deserves a break. Got it?"

"Yeah, whatever," she said, rolling her eyes and uncrossing her legs.

"Plus," I said, almost in defense of my character, "Alice is pretty stoked on her. So you gotta play nice, at least for her."

"Ugh," she groaned, clearly not pleased with my mention of Alice. "Whatever little pixie wants, little pixie gets."

I ignored this, and went back to my notebook. I was having a brutal debate in my head on whether or not to use the word _constant_ or _steady_ when Rosalie crawled up beside me, folding the length of her body directly on my side.

"Not tonight, Rose," I said, fully intent on ignoring her. Then I had a better thought.

"In fact," I said, "how about you sleep in your own room tonight? I've got a shit load of writing to do. There's a presentation I gotta give tomorrow."

"Oh, blah blah blah," she whined, and stood up quickly. Rose could take a hint, I'd give her that much. "Are you riding to school with me tomorrow?"

I kept my eyes focused on my notebook and shrugged my shoulders. "Whatever works."

"Well," she said, obviously ready to pull a trick from her sleeve. "I told Emmett I'd give him a ride too. So maybe it would be better if you just rode with Alice instead."

"Yeah yeah yeah," I said. Really, did it fucking matter anyway? As long as I fucking got there, who cares who I went with?

"Plus," Rose said, and I finally looked up at her. She was standing halfway outside of my door frame, with a mischievous look in her eyes that clearly suggested trouble. "I'm sure New Girl will be riding with Alice. Maybe you could sit next to her?"

And out she went, clicking the door behind her, obviously excited to stir some trouble wherever she could.

I thought of Rose's suggestion for a brief instance, but then quickly moved for further contemplation on my totally unnatural reaction to what she said about the girl. My response, I decided, was purely instinctual, and not motivated by anything noticeably substantial.

Maybe, I thought, it was the possibility that this girl could come from a background similar to my own. But where would I have gotten that idea from exactly?

The more I thought about it, the less sure I became. I had no understanding of why Rose pissed me off so much, other than her just being Rose. I had no idea why I was even still thinking about this Bella.

As soon as I thought her name, a rush of words and images flooded through my mind. No longer was I debating the usage of one word versus another; it all came to me, organically and fluidly, as my pen couldn't write fast enough.

I filled 10 pages of my notebook before my album was up.

***

I woke up rejuvenated in a way that I hadn't felt in a long time, if not ever. I was feeling pretty fucking cocky about all the writing I'd done the night before. Makes for a great boost to the ego, especially one that had been predominately suffering from writer's block. For whatever reason, I felt like I was bursting with creative energy.

This was, in fact, definitely a good day to present my portfolio in my creative writing class.

After I'd showered and gathered all my things, I went down the hall, casually checking to see if Bella had made her way downstairs yet. Her door was firmly shut, and I wasn't about to knock. I shrugged and went down the stairs into the kitchen.

True to form, the house was bustling with energy. Mornings in the Cullen house are always a bit rambunctious, as we are all awake and alert, ready to start our respective days. I entered the kitchen and was greeted with a mostly familiar scenario: Carlisle sitting on a barstool, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper; Emmett chugging back a half gallon of orange juice (without a glass, I might add); Rosalie primping in front of a makeup compact; Alice … wait … where exactly was Alice?

"Did Alice leave to pick up Jasper without me?" I asked.

"Nope," said a female voice from behind me, and whirled around to find myself face to face with Bella. Her hair was still down, and she wore black jeans and a faded grey sweatshirt. On her feet were torn up black Chucks, and on her left shoulder sat a large black canvas bag. I realized I was staring at her, and I quickly looked away.

"Yeah, Edward, sorry," Alice said, coming up from behind Bella. "I was just sparing Bella some extra school supplies; you know, a three ring binder, calculator … all that fun stuff." She looked at Bella and smiled, and I could already sense a bond forming. Or was Alice pushing it? Bella just looked sort of uncomfortable to me.

"So, we're ready," Alice continued. "Are you coming with us, Edward? We're on our way out the door, like, now."

"Yeah," I said, still attempting to adjust to this new alteration to my routine. "Just lemme grab a bagel or something."

"Already taken care of," Alice said, waving a little brown bag in front of my face. "Bella woke up early, and she made breakfast."

I was staring; I was totally and completely and _utterly_ staring. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't remember the last time someone had made me breakfast, or any other meal for that matter. And I know she didn't make it specifically for me, or even just for me, but I couldn't help it. I was a bit more than startled.

"It was a nice thought, Isabella," I heard Rosalie saying, and I turned my head to glare at her. "I just don't do carbs. You understand, I'm sure?"

I looked back at Bella, who just nodded at first, but then seemed to think better of it. "It's Bella. Just Bella."

Rosalie laughed dramatically. "That's right. Sorry." She slid from her chair, taking one last look into her mirror, and then shot her attention to Emmett. "Ready to go?"

"I'm always ready to bounce," he said, throwing the empty orange juice container into the trash. It didn't escape me that he was looking long and hard at Rosalie's ass as they turned into the hallway and out the door. It also didn't escape my attention that I really didn't give a shit.

"God, what a bitch," I heard Alice muttering under her breath. She rolled her eyes, smiled at both Bella and I, and then shook her car keys in front of us. "Are we ready to go or what?"

"That reminds me, Bella," Carlisle said, folding his newspaper onto his lap. "Alice will take you to the guidance office this morning, and they should have your schedule ready for you there. And remember, if there are any problems, just have them contact me and I'm sure we can take care of it."

Bella looked a flushed, and meekly stammered out a small 'thanks,' and we turned and headed toward the door.

"I guess we're ready now," I said, opening the front door for both of them. Alice gave me a curious look and then headed out. Bella didn't even let her eyes wander anywhere near my direction.

I kept wondering why I cared.

I peeked in the brown lunch bag Bella had packed for me when no one was looking. French toast. With a tiny little Tupperware container of maple syrup to go along. I smiled at the thought of Bella, all hard with her black clothing and cigarettes, waking up early to get breakfast started.

There was definitely a lot about this one I didn't know.

When we got to Alice's Volvo, I immediately reached for the back door. Again, Alice looked at me questioningly, as I never gave up the front seat for anyone. I shot a couple daggers her way, which only made her eyebrows raise with suspicion.

As we got into the car and pulled away from the house, part of me wanted to listen to Alice's chipper voice as she asked Bella questions and talked about our school, but then the other, more residual part thought it better to at least somewhat stick to routine, so I threw my headphones over my ears and pressed play.

But it was really fucking hard to focus. And I didn't know why. Even though it was probably in the low 40's, the girl had her window cracked, and chilled air was flooding through the car, making the hair on the back of my arms stand up. As if to counter the cold air, Alice had the heater on full blast, making the mixture of hot and cold air a bit stifling and overwhelming.

But that wasn't really the main issue. As the wind blew through the car and back to me, and the heat of the car engine trapped it further, the girl's scent was thrust my way. In a shocking and disturbed moment I imagined it enveloping me; crushing me and my senses into oblivion.

I was really getting carried away. But she smelled so good; something floral mixed with spice, like peonies and nutmeg and sage all mixed up in a way that made me forget that I was cold; a way that made me forget I was in the backseat of Volvo and not a thousand miles away, safe in a warm bed in the arms of the only person I'd ever loved.

My hands clutched into tight fists, and I gripped the side of the door with the ferocious intent to hold myself together. I clenched my eyes shut and tried to breathe deeply from my mouth, in hopes to keep myself steady.

But it wasn't exactly working. I bit my lips and very nearly let out a sob. I wanted out of this car and away from this girl this very instant, and I wanted to never fucking see her again and I hated her for making me feel this way and especially for making me remember.

Because this girl, this _Bella_, what with her condescending blend of flowers and spice, smelled _exactly_ like my mother.

* * *

Dang Bella … even in my fanfiction you still smell so crazy good it makes Edward go nutso. I think it's one of my favorite things about her as character in general, esp. as SM wrote it .. there's something so incredibly compelling about her that's she's not even in control of. So cool.

**Reviewers**! My heart sings for you. Like, literally. Please keep em coming, guys. Reviews make me write faster and hopefully better. Haha. Also, I'm sorry if I have yet to respond to each of your comments. But I love you and thank you more than I can say.

Another little note: I am updating this pretty quickly, but as I am going on vacation next week (road trip weeee) I won't be able to update. However, I'll hopefully get some good writing done while on the road, so that's a good thing, right?

Thanks again for reading. I sense some angsty intense conversation between our couple come next chapter, which I will hopefully get out before I leave. ;)


	4. Reflection

**Disclaimer**: I am but a mere peasent. Not SM. No money for me. Srsly. Creditors call me daily.

* * *

Chapter Four: Reflection

_I have come curiously close to the end, down  
beneath my self-indulgent pitiful hole,  
defeated, I concede and  
move closer  
I may find comfort here  
I may find peace within the emptiness. _(mjk)

**BPOV:**

The rush of moving bodies and wayward glances my way overwhelmed me. The halls of Fork's High School was filled with an assortment of bored and uninterested faces; all shuffling through the building giving me raised eyebrows or judgmental stares. I wondered if my walking with Alice and her extremely easy on the eyes boyfriend, Jasper, had anything to do with it. These Cullen's certainly knew had to draw attention, that was for sure. It wasn't as though they actively sought it out, I had decided by this point. There was just something about them, something about all of them, that had this magnetic pull.

I had decided that Alice's draw was definitely in the way she moved. She seemed to flow rather than walk; the air around her almost crackled against her movements. She told me years ago she had been a dancer, and had even danced ballet competitively when she was a younger.

She didn't tell me why she stopped, and I couldn't bring myself to ask.

The morning's events had upset my equilibrium. I woke up a little after 5:30; restless and unable to fall back into sleep. I tried playing my Walkman, but my batteries were dead, and I realized I didn't have any replacements.

And then it had started. It came as it always does. First my heart starts pounding, but the beating is erratic and uneven; coming in wild and random pulsations that almost make me question whether or not my heart will pop out of my chest.

The palpitations help to manifest the rest. My breathing becomes ragged and my mouth completely dries. And then I am sobbing. I am crying and sobbing and hyperventilating and I can hardly breathe and I am shaking and there is no reasoning with me; there is nothing to pull me out of it until it passes.

And it does. It takes some time, but eventually it does.

As my heart is what starts it, a slow quieting of the beating signals the closing of the panic attack. The sporadic beats somehow become more regular, and soon they fall into a steady rhythm, allowing my sobs to calm until soon enough, my breathing is nothing but silent heaves.

My pattern remains unchanging. I stand up from wherever I'm at to gaze in front of a mirror.

I never look any different, either. Hair is bunched up snarls from my pulling at it; my face red and raw and tearstained and my eyes bloodshot and swollen.

Looking at myself always makes me want to start crying all over again. But I never do. I just stare.

But this was a time when the routine did not stay completely on course. Because this time, someone found me.

After Alice had guided me away from the bathroom mirror, she asked me if there was anything she could do.

I said yes.

And so, we went grocery shopping. The markets usually open at 7 am, I've timed it, and that's something that seems to stay relatively consistent wherever I go. She told me it was about time someone broke in the Cullen kitchen, and that Dr. Cullen would be more than pleased that I considered cooking among one of my few joys.

We shopped and shopped. We must have spent over three hundred dollars. Alice kept assuring me that it was okay, that since the fridge was hardly ever sufficiently stocked, we were there making up for it.

I cooked French toast, per Alice's request. I cooked, while she sat on a stool behind me, telling me about her life before she lived here. But there was not a hint of sadness to her. She seemed amazingly well adjusted. Of course, she didn't spare any specific details as to how she'd ended up at the Cullen's, and I didn't ask. I told her about some of my interests too; the cooking, the writing, the generalities of my music likes and dislikes. We skimmed around the surface; avoiding the finer details of our person and only acknowledging what made us happy.

And I liked that. I really did. I'd never met another girl I was so comfortable being around. Already, I considered Alice a friend.

I separated batches of French toast for everybody in the house. I wasn't trying to get them to like me; it's just what I'd always done at any house I'd ever lived at. I was the Cook Girl. It instilled a sense of normalcy in me, to be doing these things in the Cullen household.

I wasn't anticipating any sort of reaction. Dr. Cullen was the first to come down the stairs, and he nearly glowed with feverish excitement that someone had actually cooked. Or maybe he took it as a sign that I was adjusting. He devoured the plate I made for him quickly, with a luminous smile on his face.

Emmett was the next to enter the kitchen. "Hey, you must be New Girl!" he proclaimed with exultation, and then rushed over to my side once he caught wind of the smell of food. "Holy shit. Looks like New Girl can cook! "

"Her name is Bella, Emmett," Dr. Cullen said disapprovingly. Emmett just smiled and nodded in response.

And then Rosalie came down the stairs, and the entire atmosphere in the room changed.

I wasn't wrong. And I hated the fact that I knew I wouldn't be. But there she was: almost the exact definition of what a teenage supermodel would be. She wore tight black pants and a cropped pink top that left very little to the imagination. Her makeup was flawless, dramatic eyes and thick cherry stained lips; and all of a sudden, I was heartbroken. I felt utterly and completely shattered. And I wasn't sure exactly why.

"You must be Isabella," she said with the clear assurance of a girl who'd never encountered an individual she couldn't win over. "I'm Rosalie. And welcome to our home."

"Thanks," I stammered. "It's Bella, actually."

"Oh, yes, of course," she smiled, and she really was flawless. My heart ached.

I noted that wherever Rosalie moved, Emmett's eyes followed. I figured it was like that with any guy. But then I saw the way she looked at him, and her eyes were definitely flirting back. The girl screamed sex, and people just noticed. And she really fucking loved it.

She refused my breakfast, stating an avoidance to carbs or something. And I felt really tongue tied. Which is odd for me, because I'm usually able to defend myself quite well. Which in itself was another odd thought, because no one was attacking me, and yet I felt extremely defensive.

And then Edward came down to the kitchen and I finally understood why.

This girl was _his_ girl. She screamed sex with _him_. And it made me want to fucking rip my hair out.

Alice had taken me into Dr. Cullen's office to find me some "extremely necessary" (as she called it) school supplies. We were just walking out when I saw him, his figure standing in the doorway of the kitchen. I squared my shoulders and walked toward him, trying to be confident that I had nothing to be insecure about.

"Did Alice leave to pick up Jasper without me?" he asked, and instinctually I responded.

"Nope," I said, and he whirled around to face me very quickly. I thought he was giving me the once over again, but he only seem to stare. His eyes were unreadable as he stared at me, and I couldn't decided whether or not I felt uncomfortable or grateful that he was sparing me some attention.

I felt so fucking stupid. I felt like such a fucking girl.

When Alice had given him the breakfast I'd made, he started the staring all over again. A warmth spread from my stomach out to my chest to my arms, and I knew my skin was getting flushed. I was suddenly embarrassed because I was afraid he would think that I had done all this to impress them, when it really wasn't the case at all. I was just trying to attain my sense of normalcy. Anyone would get that, wouldn't they?

We got to the car and Edward sat in the back. Alice started talking a mile a minute again; asking me about previous schools I'd attended and schoolmates and teachers.

And I was boiling. I felt so hot all over, and I could feel my heartbeat hitching, signaling another panic attack, which panicked me even further because there was no way I was ready to let Edward see that side of me. I rolled down the window; letting the cool air soothe me. It actually kind of worked. I focused on the air and the sound of Alice's voice and pretended that Edward Cullen was not sitting directly behind me.

While we were circling for parking at school, I allowed myself a glimpse at Edward from behind me, as I pretended to pick a piece of lint off my shoulder.

He took my breath away. It wasn't because he was beautiful, although he certainly was. His face was contorted as if in severe pain; his eyes tightly shut and his hands clenched into desperate fists. His expensive headphones were on, and I wondered if he were just really into the music, thinking maybe whatever song he was listening to must have been incredibly moving to have such a noticeable effect on him.

But as soon as we parked, Edward ripped his headphones from his ears and nearly sprinted from the car. My chest heaved and I was suddenly overwhelmed with the most intense feeling of dread; as if I very much had something to do with his frantic need to get away.

Alice didn't seem to think anything of it. She kept on talking, acting as if Edward had never been in the car in the first place.

If only I felt the same.

***

Either Sally was a genius or Dr. Cullen really did have some pull in this place. My class schedule was amazing. I finally allowed myself some sense of relief after the tumultuous morning I'd had. My first period was study hall, and I wandered the school library, fingering the assortment of books that were stocked. I found my hand resting on an Anne Sexton anthology, and I briefly considered picking it up, but then I made myself turn away.

She was my mother's favorite.

As I had picked up fresh batteries at the store this morning, I had my Walkman handy and it worked on placating my nerves as I continued up and down the library aisles. _"Baby black black black is all you see … don't you want to be free …"_ I strummed the imaginary acoustic guitar in my mind and turned the next corner, only to have my breath stolen away from me.

Because there _he_ was, sitting on the floor in a corner between two book shelves with his back against a window. He was writing in a notebook furiously; his knuckles white with pressure against the pen in his hand. And his face was just twisted up in all sorts of agony, as if whatever he was writing or whatever he was listening to through his headphones was causing him massive amounts of impenetrable despair. It was almost the same face he'd had in the car.

Before I could decide whether or not to approach him, he must have sensed me. His head moved up to my direction slowly, as if he didn't want to accept that I was standing before him. Part of me wanted to run. But my feet felt as if they were glued to the floor, and I was paralyzed. And I've never felt more fucking ridiculous in my life because I didn't even know this guy and I was pretty sure he didn't want to know me, but I couldn't move away from him. My will had fluttered and caved. He was there and therefore I had to be here. It was very simple.

It was very simple and was very much _not me_.

We remained staring at each other, which probably lasted all of 10 seconds. Then, without warning, I regained control of my limbs, and away I went, nearly knocking over a shelf of books with my bag. I flew out of the library and into the chill of the February air. I saw a bench to my left, pulled my headphones off of my ears and sat.

I was having a very hard time reckoning my reactions with myself. Was it just that I'd recently broken up with someone, or was it more? Was this not even about me in the least? Was it just about Edward specifically?

"Hey," said a quiet voice, and I looked up to see Edward standing above me. "Can I sit?"

"Uh, sure," I managed to reply. He probably thought I was crazy. I thought Dr. Cullen must have asked him to watch out for me.

My heart fluttered as he sat beside me, not too close, which I figured was a conscious effort on his part. His headphones were hanging from his neck, and his hands were clasped tightly on his knees. He breathed slowly out of his mouth, the way I often do to counter an approaching panic attack.

"I didn't figure I would have to tell you this," he said, looking at his fists. "I don't know what the hell it is. I don't even know you. But you just …" He looked at me then, his eyes unshielded with open curiosity. "You remind me of someone. A lot. And that's not easy for me to be around. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

My chin quivered against my will, and I nodded. "You can't be around me."

"Yeah," he said, still looking at me, though his eyes fluttered momentarily to my fucking chin, showcasing all of the emotions I wasn't even quite sure I had; all putting out what I didn't quite understand in an embarrassing display for Edward to witness. "Like I said, I don't know you, so it's not personal. So, sorry."

He stood with rash abruptness, and walked away from me. I sat, staring at my shaking hands, cursing my traitor chin, wondering how he could feel that way and it not be personal.

Because it really felt that way. It really felt fucking personal.

**EPOV:**

Well what the fuck was I supposed to do? After what felt like a torturous hour in the car smelling her and trying not to breathe, all I could do was just run the fuck away from it. I couldn't go to my first class; I was somehow afraid she'd be in it, and so I went to the only place at school I feel comfortable. My little sanctuary, if you will.

I sat in my spot that's pretty much hidden from direct view, and I turned on my music, and I had to listen to that song because it was all I could fucking think about.

And the crazy thing really was: my muse was still there from last night. It all came as naturally and as beautifully as it did before and there was no halt in my rhythm and no interruption to my pace.

I felt oddly free. My pen was skimming the paper so effortlessly and my breath was ragged and I kind of felt like dying but it was so fucking pure. I was awash in the muse.

And that's when it came again. The scent. Her scent; my mother's scent, it was all in the same. I knew she was there probably before she knew I was. I rose my head slowly, as if in avoidance of what I knew I'd already see.

But there stood Bella, and it was hard to pretend she wasn't there. Because we were just fucking staring at each other for what felt like forever before she turned and pretty much ran away. I thought she must know. She knew that I couldn't be around her.

But I felt like she deserved to know. It wasn't about her. I didn't know who the fuck she was. She wasn't anything to me. But this need to protect her that developed last night through Rosalie, it was still there. But this time it wasn't Rose I needed to protect Bella from. It was from me.

I was going to be an asshole. I was going to be a true and utter dipshit because there was no way I could be around her. There was no way I could be around her because I was just going to feel everything that I hadn't felt in so long. It had been nearly five years since I'd thought of my mother, at least thought of her like that. I couldn't be reminded of that time in my life.

So I would warn her. I would just fucking tell her, and then she would stay away, and I could go back to my routine and pretend as if she didn't exist.

I know there were some holes in my plan. Like … we lived together and shit. But I would do whatever it took. I would just tell her this one thing and just be done with it all.

So I did. I told her the truth: not a very characteristic move on my part. But what else could I say? You smell so fucking beautiful it makes me ache and want to cry and curl up like a baby? I don't think so.

I let myself absorb a bit of the flowers and spice to test myself as I sat next to her. But the ache just pulsated, shocking me with its violent and urgent capacity. I would not be free of this if she were around.

But I wasn't exactly prepared for the chin quivering deal. It took me off guard, and that ridiculous need to protect her flared up again. I wanted to rub that chin with the back of my thumb and soothe it back into stillness. Because it wasn't personal. She was just a girl. She had no idea what I'd been through.

There's no need to feel guilty, I kept telling myself. I've never been that social of a creature anyway, so being unable to interact with this person shouldn't be that alarming. In fact, it would be the most in character thing I'd done in the last 24 hours.

The bell for second period rang, and I breathed an anxious breath as I rounded the corner to head into my next class. Creative writing, and it was time to give a brief presentation of what I had done thus far into the semester. Of course, I'd done significantly more since yesterday's class, and I wondered if these new additions would excite or alarm Mr. Banner. It really didn't matter. It was the best work I'd done in forever. My creative high was still pulsing in my veins.

The desks in the classroom were arranged to form a U shape, with Mr. Banner's desk sitting at the opening front of the U. The desks were similar to tables and sat two people, but I always occupied my own desk. It was either a special privilege or just reminiscent of how frequently people avoid me. Whatever the case, all the other desks were filled, as the class was noted as a popular, even though half the people in this class couldn't write for shit.

But I liked Mr. Banner. He seemed to get me, and he wasn't a pushy dickhead either.

But that was all about to change. And it was of no fault of Mr. Banner's, really. Because Bella walked into the classroom, sheepishly holding a printed schedule in her hand and walking up to him with a hopeful sense of determination. She was excited for this class.

But she hadn't seen me yet.

I tried to keep myself centered, because I knew what would happen next. Mr. Banner would look at her schedule, smile at her, and then point at the only fucking empty seat in the classroom; the one next to me. And then Bella would look at the seat, realize me, and the hopeful look would be gone from her eyes, and instead replaced with a sense of dread. She would move slowly and without assurance, and the clock would tick incessantly as she did, and her eyes would be trained with careful focus on the empty chair. And then she would sit and her scent would knock me senseless.

It played out like clockwork.

* * *

**A/N:** Whew! Whaddya think? I swear this chapter just ran away with me. I initially wanted it to include the classroom scenario, but it'll be better played out in the next one, I believe. I'm being kind of evasive with some of E/B's backstory, and I hope that's not pissing any of you off. Just know that neither of them regularly thinks about the shit that's happened to them. They push it out of their minds. As in first person, we only get what they think. So please stay with me. :)

Again, thanks to the lovely reviewers, and also anyone who's recommended this story somewhere. ..

On that note: this will be my last update for about a week. I'm going on vacation, and I don't know if I'll have internet access, and I'll probably be too busy anyway. Checking out some grad schools in Oregon. Wish me luck?

Well, it's almost 3am and time for me to hit it. Have a great week, lovelies.


	5. Sweat

Disclaimer: Not Stephenie Meyer. No $, etc.

* * *

Chapter Five: Sweat

_seems like I've been here before.  
seems so familiar.  
seems like I'm slipping  
into a dream within a dream.  
it's the way you whisper.  
it drags me under  
and takes me home._(mjk)

**BPOV**:

I inhaled the cigarette smoke as if it were a life raft; holding the nicotine in for as long as possible before I let myself let it go. It was after 9, and I was back at the Cullen's, which I suppose was now to be considered my home, sitting on the same bench outside that I'd sat smoking last night. I felt kind of disgusting because I'd been out here for the last two hours chain smoking and the ashtray was overfilled with the stubs of my Marlboro Lights.

But I couldn't bring myself to go inside. I'd never felt so connected and compelled, but then in the same sense so exiled and alone.

It was seriously one of those times that I knew I would remember, and the specificities would be made clear through the notes jotted in my journal. I would remember exactly what it felt like to be so thoroughly emotionally torn; so utterly and completely devastated by the swell of disorder that had swept through my being.

I'd never been so alone, and I'd never been so alive.

I knew without a doubt what these feelings were propelled by. Edward Cullen. Boy who had made it abundantly clear that, for whatever reason, he could not be around me. Chalked it up to me reminding him of someone he once knew. It was a first. Someone didn't even have to get to know me before they told me they didn't want to be around me. But it really didn't make me feel any better. I just felt like someone had taken the chair from underneath me and I was falling … grasping at the rope tied around my neck.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

But of course he was in the same Creative Writing class. Of course the one thing that I had counted on keeping me afloat throughout the day had been tampered by his presence. Or was that even really it? I got instructed to sit beside him and I just fucking longed to touch him; longed to smooth away the pain filled creases on his forehead and the bitterness to his jaw.

I wanted to tell him I was sorry. I was so sorry I reminded him of someone.

He avoided looking at me as we sat next to one another, which was exactly what I'd expected. His eyes were either set firmly forward or contemplating his notebook, which was completely filled with his sprawling cursive. The paper looked beautiful with his handwriting across it. And I hated myself for thinking so.

The class was doing some mid semester progress check, and of course it just happened to be Edward's turn to present his work. Mr. Banner called him to the front, and he casually slipped from his seat and headed in his direction. He had his notebook in his hand, which I found sort of interesting because it seemed as though it would be required to be more formal than that.

But Mr. Banner gave Edward a knowing sort of smile, and I then sensed their connection. Edward was his favorite. It didn't take me long to figure out why.

The beauty of his prose nearly equaled him in physical measure. I was overtaken by his stunning mastery of language; by how deeply and profoundly his words completely moved me. I felt my jaw go slack as I listened to his voice recite in tender brilliance the words that had made mere lined paper so stunning. I realized I had seen him writing; I had witnessed how the act had so completely taken him over.

There was no true way to grasp a specific understanding of exactly what it was he was writing about; as most of it seemed to rely heavily on some type of abstract poetic form. But I could see a change in his writing and his diction as he seemed almost done. His voice became suddenly more aggressive, and then there was kind of a dramatic emphasis on _"the undertaker of her scent."_ Which would have still been beautiful and still had me leaning with held breath, but then he looked up from his reading and looked me directly in the eye.

And it was not an angry look. His eyes were sad; they were torn.

After he sat down again, he continued not looking at me, and when class was dismissed he bolted from his seat in the same manner he'd done from the car this morning. I felt a little paralyzed at first, staring after him, certain there was some sort of cruel irony in all of this. I was going to be sitting next to him for the next four months, riding to school with him … fucking _living_ with him, and he couldn't stand to be around me.

The rest of the day passed in an uninteresting blur. I had no more classes with Edward, which both relieved and disappointed me. Alice showed me where her and Jasper and usually Edward sat at lunch, but he was conveniently missing from that hour. Maybe off with Rosalie, perfecting their probably already perfect fucking screw.

But then she walked by our table 10 minutes later, with Emmett and not Edward, and I was even more intrigued.

He rode with us again, again sitting in the back, but the scene was almost exactly the same. He sat with his eyes clenched shut, bolting away the near second the car came to a halt.

I felt the beginnings of a routine starting, and it made my skin crawl with unease.

The part of the routine that I was most okay with was the cooking part. I cooked dinner tonight; nothing extravagant, penne pasta with sausage and a light tomato sauce, but again, those who ate my food were the most receptive of diners, and it almost made my heart sing to see them happily eating. Jasper ate over for dinner tonight, and it was really nice to spend time with him and get to know the guy who so fully occupied Alice's heart. Her eyes danced when she looked at him, and again I was awash in the same longing ache that had been introduced to me earlier.

The same ache I'd had ever since I'd gotten here. Ever since I'd met Edward Cullen.

So after the happy dinner scene (which was only attended by Alice, Jasper, and Dr. Cullen) I made my way to escape outside into the chilling darkness where I could further contemplate why on earth someone I didn't know in the slightest was having such a profound effect on me.

After the first hour and half a pack of smokes, I'd decided that a lot of it had to do with how infinitely layered Edward seemed to be; as if most (if not all) of what he purposefully allowed others to see was part of some highly staged act in which his true self, or his core, would never be realized. The cocky attitude and the Rosalie escapade came right into mind. The desperate and pained look I'd seen on his face earlier, and the beautiful and poignant writing he'd presented made me absolutely question whether or not the rest of it was just for show.

The second hour came the self doubt, where I began really kicking myself for even spending this much time making guesses at who Edward really was. Obviously, I made myself think, what he mostly was was someone who couldn't stand to be around me.

But why? And who did I remind him of? An ex-girlfriend, a girl who he'd had a falling out with? This someone must have had an extreme impact on him to have caused the reaction he'd had today.

But before I could relinquish any further thought on the matter; before I could truly decide where to settle my thoughts, Edward decided to come out and have a cigarette with me.

I knew it must have been a decision, because he must have seen me sitting out here. Plus, he could have thought back to yesterday, as this spot was the first place he had seen me in to begin with. He decided to come out here, all on his free will.

We were both quiet at first, as he lit his cigarette and stared absentmindedly into the trees that were huge before us. I watched him, realizing that I actually felt relieved and not nervous that he was out here with me. I realized I wanted to be around him. It was something I know part of me must have plainly known, but in that second, I finally accepted it.

He turned to me then and caught my eye, and we looked at each other with some sort of quiet understanding. He shook his head then, and looked down at the hand that held his cigarette.

"I keep fucking asking myself why I'm out here," he said, eyes still fervently focused downward. "I told you the situation already; I told you what has to happen, and yet I'm still out here."

"You wanted a cigarette," I said simply, as if to reassure him that I wasn't going to make a big deal about today's earlier events. He looked up at me quickly, and a faint smile touched lightly at his mouth.

"Yeah," he said. "I wanted a cigarette."

**EPOV:**

Yeah, I sure as fucking hell wanted a cigarette. And I'd already had about 10 before finally deciding to see if she would be out here. I had been writing nonstop all afternoon, jotting down prose that was often nonsensical and overtly abstract; prose that spewed forth without pretense and culminated with ferocity. I was still completely feeling it. I was still totally and utterly musin' it.

Dealing with Bella and her smell was just as difficult as I'd anticipated. And when Mr. Banner had called me up and asked for my presentation, I was actually grateful. Grateful to get up and just get a few feet away from her.

But then my reading got all fucked up. Because my muse was still pulsing, I couldn't help but make it obvious. I couldn't help but put it all out there. It was just fucking raging, and I could feel my hands moving and sense my voice raising, but I couldn't control it any longer. And then I looked up and looked her directly in the eye. Because in some weird way I blamed her for more than just smelling so goddamn close to my dead mother, but also for bringing all this shit straight out of me. Because within the last day that I've known her, things have been anything but normal for me. They've been fucking out of control.

So, naturally I bolted the second the bell rang, avoided any possible run ins at lunch and stayed far away from the inside of the house as evening approached. But I didn't go far. I sat on the hood of Alice's car, watching the movements of the inside of the house from the safety of twilight shadows. Those fucking glorious ceiling high windows gave me the most perfect view. And so I just fucking watched her. Watched her move from her bedroom upstairs down into the kitchen where she stayed for over an hour, apparently cooking dinner for everyone to eat. And I couldn't bring myself to go inside. I watched her finger a cookbook, rummage through the refrigerator, stir something in a saucepan over a stove while she stood over it, waiting and watching for it to be ready.

And I was hooked. There was look on her face, it was slight, and I was probably reading into it more than I should, but it was this faint unguarded look that was anything but hard; anything other than my mother's perfect scent. A wash of sadness passed over her previously worn grimace, and there she was. And it was as pure as the muse and music and everything else that had been trembling through me this last day. I realized that the feeling I'd had in class today was right; she was the cause of this all. But it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

But I just kept watching her. They ate, and I still sat watching, dwindling my pack down to nothing. And then she disappeared from the house and I knew she was back sitting in the same spot, my spot, the same spot I'd seen her at yesterday. But I stayed still for a while, debating my course of action now that I'd realized the severity of what all of this was boiling down to.

It was way more than just an interruption in my routine. It ran deeper than that. She was changing things, she had changed things, but I suddenly realized I was interested to see how all of this would play out. I was interested to see who she was. She had to be more than just a demon from the past put here in this house just to taunt me. Yes-she had unearthed some memories … some things that I hadn't even allowed myself to fully register. But if I did … what would happen then? Did I want to find out or did I still just want an escape route?

So I did the only natural thing there was left to do. I went into the backyard, to find Bella sitting in the very spot I'd anticipated her to, and I sat with her. I said some stupid shit about how I didn't know why I was out there, mostly just to relieve the tension I felt was building inside of me and definitely branching out and affecting her. I just wanted to be near the flowers and spice and breathe it in and cradle the ache and let it burn me. Feel the burn. I wanted to feel the burn.

I think I just wanted to feel.

We sat there smoking for awhile, not talking, avoiding each other's eyes and just concentrating on the cigarette smoke. I felt oddly comfortable being around her, the kind of comfortable where you don't have to fill the silence with unnecessary and awkward conversation. We could just be here, in quiet contemplation, and let that be it.

***

A couple of days went by and I found myself in a new routine. Going to school, avoiding Bella, breathing deeply while sitting beside her in class, and writing constantly. The evening would come, and I would stay away from the house and sit outside and watch her. Then, when she disappeared, I knew I would find her sitting on the bench, so there I would go, and we would sit in silence until one or both of us ran out of smokes. And back into the house we would go, still not talking, but honestly not really avoiding conversation either. The silence fitted us. It was in actuality quite soothing.

I had very nearly forgotten about my other obligations until on the fifth day when I heard it from Rose. It was after 11 and I was still under a blanket of stillness when I walked into my bedroom to find Rose sitting on my bed with a disgusted look on her face. It was a frustrating interruption to my mood, and I found that I resented Rose's very presence at the moment. She stood quickly and without hesitation came before me and started rubbing her hands up and down my arms.

"Where you been, baby?" she whispered in my ear as she continued the rubbing, letting her hands move down further. "I haven't seen you in forever … it's been days. Are you avoiding me or something?" She reached her palm and pressed it firmly on my dick, and suddenly I was very hard and very horny. But it really didn't have anything to do with Rosalie in the slightest, but my libido was pulsating and I felt myself going through the movements of the normal and often gratifying process of fucking Rosalie Hale. So I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her onto the bed, and she smiled because she realized she had me.

But I didn't fucking care. I wasn't even really thinking about her. I just had to satiate this need, and then that would be it. And then maybe I wouldn't need any more silent conversations or devastating scents. Maybe this need, this primal and natural need, would make me feel like me again. It would be like tying a knot, or cutting a cord. Making sense out of the madness.

So we engaged in our usual procession of fool-hardy fucking. She undressed and without any foreplay I forced myself into her, and we rolled around with ferocity and unusual aggression. Something was off but we both didn't pay attention long enough call it out. I moved in and out blinded by the generalities of skin and sweat. I didn't care who she was. I didn't care what happened. I just needed to get this out of me.

Once we were finished, I rolled over and away from her. I stared without seeing at my bed sheets, and I knew everything all at once, right then and there. "I can't do this anymore, Rosalie," I said, my voice coming out in almost less than a whisper.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, and I could feel her movements on the other side of me, and it felt like she was propping her head up onto her wrist.

"It's over. This … this isn't real. None of this." I turned and look at her, and her face was completely blank. Maybe she wasn't hearing me … maybe she wasn't understanding. Or maybe she didn't really care. "We have to grow up. We have to get over this."

"But why?" She pulled herself up and sat cross legged before me. She seemed merely confused, but not upset for any reason other than she just didn't understand my motivation.

"I don't want to pretend anymore," I whispered, looking down at my hands. She didn't say anything, and we just sat without talking for a couple of minutes before she finally caught my eye, and smiled.

"Have a good night, Edward," she said. "I'll see you at school tomorrow." And she left my room, leaving me a little surprised at how seemingly well she took it. Which either made me think she was just bullshitting me, or that she possibly felt the same. Either way, I was alone once again. I turned off my lamp, and for the first time that I could remember, I fell asleep without listening to music.

* * *

Ok, so this chapter was semi angsty and a bit impulsive, but it actually is more of a transition to help present the next arc in the story: Edward and Bella becoming friends. They both have issues with opening up to people, so that is why for now they find it preferable to simply not talk to each other … but they are finding that they are compelled to be together.

Anyway, during my trip to Oregon I did a lot of other personal writing, so that may have had some influence on this chapter. I don't know. But I do know that we have to get past this hurdle to get to the juicy middle. Know what I mean?

Anyway, thanks to all you readers who were patient for this story to continue. Please review … let me know how you think their relationship is progressing. 3


	6. The Grudge

**Disclaimer**: yadda yadda … not stephenie meyers, no deniro cometh this way … I hardly own my car, let alone twilight …

* * *

Chapter Six: The Grudge

_defining, confining, controlling, and we're sinking deeper. _(mjk)

**BPOV:**

"Can I ask you a question?" I looked up and over at Edward, who was sitting to my left on the table of the picnic bench we always sat at. I tried to control my face as I heard his voice, because in the week since we'd been coming out here, this was virtually the first time he had verbally addressed me. My mind flashed to a couple of days ago, and I felt the uprising of anger beginning to pulsate through me.

I was in no way opposed to the evening routine that Edward and I had found ourselves in lately. In fact, my days simply centered around them, as I found myself brimming with anticipation whenever the late hour drew near. I don't know exactly how this had come to be. But, because it was Edward who had initiated it, and also Edward who had previously told me he couldn't be around me, I couldn't quite bring myself to ask.

I knew the reason why I couldn't ask him, too. Because I was afraid if I did, he would realize his mistake, and away he would go, back to condemning my presence to the very depths of hell.

I hadn't forgotten about Rosalie, though. And apparently, neither had he. A few nights ago, after one of our extended and silent cigarette breaks, we had both walked up the stairs, still cloaked in the quiet, and walked into each of our separate bedrooms. It was only five minutes later before I heard it. It was as loud and clear as it was that first day.

Edward and Rosalie. Having sex.

I couldn't register exactly how to feel for a very long time. I stayed awake nearly the whole night. I tried to bring myself to listen to music, I tried to write, even; anything to distract me from the terrible thoughts and feelings that were rapidly enveloping me. But none of it worked. I couldn't concentrate in the slightest. The sounds of their sex didn't last very long, but it didn't matter. It very nearly broke me.

The silence that Edward and I had found was not disturbing, but infinitely peaceful. We did not need to fill up the space with useless strings of sentence or unnecessary questions. Although we hadn't talked about it, it was as if we both understood the reason we were out there. I thought Edward must have needed some peace in his life as much as I did. No social workers, no talking about the past, no trying to prove I was something I'm not; just the truth, presented in silence. It was alarmingly gratifying.

But he took it all away by sleeping with Rosalie again. Because it made me realize he didn't need the sense of quiet as much as I did. It was just an aberration; something to distract him momentarily while Rosalie wasn't home or whatever. And it hurt. It hurt to think that I was just filling in the gaps. Because it wasn't like that for me. I fucking depended on this time with him. It made the rest of it not seem so bad. It was strange-it was like I could finally be myself without even having to say anything. I'd never felt so comfortable with anyone else before, and that really fucking scared me, because I thought about how fleeting these moments could be. Before I knew it, Edward would grow bored, and the sex with Rosalie would replace our time together as if I had never even existed. It kind of broke my heart.

So after that night, I tried to reason myself out of it. The whole next day, I contemplated staying in my room for the evening, or even going for a walk far away from the house; anything to distract me from going to that same fucking spot and sitting next to Edward while he reeked of sex.

But after the first part of my routine was complete; cooking for Dr. Cullen, Alice, Jasper, and Emmett, I couldn't tear myself away from walking through that kitchen door and out into the black cold where I knew I would soon find him. The anger flashed as soon as he showed up, but it faded away by the third cigarette and soon I could forget that Rosalie even existed. We listened to our individual headphones, smoking our own cigarettes, not talking and only going inside when it got too late or one of us made the executive decision to get up and leave.

It was very seldom me.

So, when Edward decided to say something to me tonight, I was a little more than taken aback. The anger flashed again randomly, and I couldn't figure out why the sound of his voice was what brought it back again. "Yeah," I said, in response to him. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering," he paused, a little hesitant, "what are you listening to?"

"Oh," I said, a bit shocked. It made sense in some way-it was something we sort of had in common, since we both seemed to have our headphones permanently attached to our ears, but I had never considered the fact that Edward may have been interested in my musical taste. Or maybe he was just trying to make conversation? But why now, after so long of nothing?

"Well," I thought, considering how much I should divulge, "right now I'm listening to Cat Power. Ever heard of her?"

"No," he said, a quiet smile spreading across his face. "That's a really fucking weird name. What kind of music is it?"

"Her name is actually Chan Marshall. I think the name is just a kind of stage name-I'm not really sure. It's kind of eclectic; sometimes folksy, sometimes blues, sometimes she sings solo against a piano." I paused, suddenly thinking I was talking too much. "I like her a lot, I guess."

"Hmm," he murmured, looking at me with some undisclosed intent. "I guess that wasn't what I was expecting from you." I felt confusion pass through me, and I wondered if he'd been trying to guess what I'd been listening to for some time.

"I didn't know you were expecting anything," I said, matching his gaze with my own. "What kind of music do you listen to?" I realized Edward's question gave me an opportunity to ask my own.

"I only listen to one thing," he said quietly, looking away from me. "It's a band: Tool. Are you familiar?"

"Only somewhat. I think I'd heard a few songs on the radio before." His head snapped up at this, and his mouth turned into a frown.

"Those are just singles. They really don't do them any real justice." I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just bit my lip and looked out into the distance. The Cullen house was adjacent to a forest, one that was probably not too large, but intimidating enough that I hadn't yet found myself exploring it. It was past nine now, and the trees were faintly lit from the glow of the shining half moon. The chill was not as present as it had been through the last week, but still, a slight shiver passed through me.

I felt Edward looking at me so I turned my head to face him. His gaze was that curious one he'd had before, the first morning I'd spent at the house. I wanted desperately to ask him what he was thinking, but I bit my tongue for fear of overdoing conversation. In that moment, I silently cursed my nervousness, as I again wondered why Edward's opinion meant so much to me. Was I just fearful of losing this quiet escape that I'd found? I couldn't quite figure it out.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" he asked, still wearing the curious and intense gaze. I felt my eyes widen in surprise, and I hated the fact that my expressions were so easy to read. I should be playing it cool, calm, collected. Instead I was acting like every other teenage girl in wonder at his presence.

"Okay," I said with a bit of reserve, and Edward scooted swiftly off the bench. I noticed that he kept his headphones around his neck, and that he had turned his Ipod off.

Something told me that Edward Cullen wanted to talk to me.

**EPOV:**

She was definitely not like any other teenage girl that I'd met, that much I knew for sure. What other girl would be content with sitting in the quiet with some fucked up guy who had been a total prick to her a mere week ago? It didn't make a lot of sense-but I wasn't complaining. I was beginning to put a lot of emphasis on these nights, more that I was really sure was okay. But I tried not to think of it too much. I definitely didn't want to freak her, or myself, out.

The last night I'd slept with Rose kind of pulled a fast one on me. After she'd left, I lay awake, contemplating the sudden and compulsive desire to not have sex with her anymore. Thinking back, I realized I'd kind of lost interest a long time ago, but she was still a hot girl who basically threw herself on me on a daily basis, so what full blooded male can honestly resist that?

Apparently, I could. Well, I had to have sex with her one last time to figure it out, but that is what really did all of the convincing for me. Sex with Rosalie was just filler. Just masking over the void. All it did was release a little aggression and relieve my libido.

But that wasn't enough for me anymore. I didn't want some meaningless void filler. I needed something … more. Something bigger than all of this. And for some odd reason, all of my senses were pointing to Bella.

It wasn't as if I were particularly attracted to her. I mean, I didn't think about fucking her whenever I saw her. In fact, I never thought about fucking her, except when realization hit me that I wasn't thinking about it. There was something there that wasn't related to sex in the slightest, something completely different that compelled me to be around her. I knew most of it had to do with the fact that we didn't have to talk at all around each other. It was so weird because it was so goddamn comfortable, and yet I didn't know the first thing about her.

Except that her smell still drove me crazy. Whenever I would first see her, it would nearly blindside me with its compelling force, and I would both want to run the fuck away from her or bury my face in her neck. The feelings were compulsions that hit me instantly, and it would take me a few minutes to adjust.

But I would, because I would breathe deeply, letting the smell slowly desensitize me, until no longer did it fuel a burning ache, but it only smelled appealingly attractive. I wanted to burrow within her peonies and nutmeg and sage; let it wash over me and engulf me in its warmth.

It was fucking driving me crazy. Wanting both to be incredibly close to her and to run as far away from her as possible at the same time. The pull of both emotions was freakishly strong, leaving me breathless trying to make sense of it.

But the one thing I knew for sure was, the need to be around her was stronger than the desire not to be. Because here I fucking was, every goddamn day, and there was nothing I could do to convince myself to not come to our spot or to leave when I got there.

But other than her smell, I didn't quite get the pull. And it was her, I'd realized, that brought me there. Sure, the silence was comforting in itself, the not having to talk and the ability to find another person who seemed to enjoy it as much as I did. But _she_ was comfortable, or her presence was, and that's what soothed me more than the stillness. It was that warmth I'd noticed on that first day, a warmth that transcended from her wide brown eyes and bellowed out around her, overwhelming me in the process.

The days were the same, though. I still avoided the cafeteria at lunch, still sat in the back of Alice's car with my eyes shut and my fists clenched; I still bolted from creative writing the second the bell rang. Those things never changed. Because when we weren't immersed in the quiet backdrop of the black forest, I could forget that I ever wanted to be around her in the first place. In those moments, the only need that was ever pressing was the uncontrollable urge to get the fuck away from her. Then, I could forget about how soothing her presence was in the silence and how effectively I was pulled there every evening. With others surrounding us, the ache again pulsated, and my mind would wrap around the cool arms of my mother and the tears would press in desperation against my lids.

It wasn't clear to me why some places were bearable while others weren't. Maybe when we were outside the coolness dispelled the scent somewhat, so it wasn't in my primary focus. Or, maybe when we were amidst socialization and surrounded by others my memory would simply flare up, and I would realize the person I'd made myself to be: someone who's known to not give a shit. So why did I give a shit about this one? It still was throwing me all out of focus.

But I found, these last few nights, after I'd given Rose the boot, that there was a part of me that was itching to know more about Bella. Like, where did she come from? What music does she listen to? Why the fuck did she keep coming out here to sit with me?

So I finally asked her one question in attempts to satiate my interest. But it didn't work. I figured she'd ramble off some bullshit Britney Spears or something, and then I would find that she really was just some stupid girl, and my curiosity, as well as my need to be around her, would disappear.

But fucking shit, _of course_ her interests would be way off my predictions, and so the curiosity was even more fueled. I knew I was staring at her again when she answered me, and I also knew I couldn't fucking help it. I wanted to know more about this girl. I wanted to break the silence. I wanted to talk to her.

I thought it might be easier and less awkward if we went for a walk instead of staying in close proximity where the impulse to stare at her would arise more often. If we kept moving, I'd have to be somewhat distracted. I wanted to push pause on the creep factor that I was afraid was becoming a prominent characteristic of mine.

We walked for a few minutes in our comfortable silent state, only the sounds of forest life and our footsteps crushing branches and leaves surrounding us. The path we were on was a walkway I was familiar with, as during summer twilight when there was more activity around the house during that hour, I would find my escape walking out into the woods. It led fairly deep into the hub of the woods, but I wasn't planning on taking Bella that far. Just a little walk to get our blood pumping and to push away the anticipation that was now making me twitch in sudden nervousness. I shook my arms out, trying to dissipate the feeling with further movement.

Her head flicked up a second after I did that, and a light smile touched at her lips. I found myself smiling back at her, and for a minute I was caught up in the moment: us walking in silence in the dark out here, the cool breeze making her hair flow softly around her face and neck, her smell drifting softly towards me. For a second, I was gone. I was swimming in the moment.

I snapped myself out of it and returned my focus to the path ahead. "So," I said, deciding the best way to avoid creep factor was to talk it out. "Cat Power, huh? Sounds relatively interesting." She laughed, a light, subtle sound that echoed softly against the darkness.

"I don't search far and wide for the interesting factor as far as music is concerned," she said without bitterness. "I just find what I like and listen to what I like. It's as simple as that."

"I see," I muttered. "What is it that you usually like? If don't mind my asking …"

"Of course not. I guess I mostly gravitate toward female singer/songwriters. I like artists that play a variety of instruments. And lyrics are important to me as well. I don't know … I just like music, like everyone else, I suppose."

I couldn't help myself-I looked at her. Her expression seemed far away, like she was deep in thought. "Does everyone like music?" I asked, curious that she would think so. In my experience, everyone enjoys music to some extent, but not everyone truly likes it, or know what they like. And hardly anyone really loves it.

"I think so," she said. "Maybe not everyone likes what I like, and maybe I don't like what everyone else likes. But it is pretentious to think you're the only person in the world who's moved by a particular musician, or by a particular song." She caught my eye, and I felt like she knew everything about me, or that I was transparent, and the mask I'd worn for so long was wearing thin. Or maybe she was just speaking from personal experience. Either way, my head was spinning again.

"I guess I never thought of it that way," I admitted. I felt like she was inadvertently calling me on my bullshit, and I was at once insecure and impressed. This girl sure had a way of pulling mixed emotions from me, of that, I was sure. "I don't think I'm the only person who's ever been moved by music … that's just fucking ridiculous. But, I guess I've never met anyone who considered music an important part of their life. Is that fair?"

"It's fair," she said, smiling once again. "But not completely accurate."

"How so?" I demanded, getting a little frustrated.

"Because now you've met me."

I didn't know what to say then, because again this girl had taken me completely off guard. I shook my head in amusement and frustration as we continued on our walk. We were heading a little deeper than I liked, so I stopped abruptly in my tracks, and motioned back in home's direction.

"I think we better turn back," I said, anticipating her agreement.

"Do you mind if we keep walking?" she said, her eyes softly pleading. "I haven't really explored too much out here … I'd like to keep going." Again, she had taken me by surprise, as I had expected her to be too cold or maybe uncomfortable with this newfound progression in our relationship: talking. But, I guess if I were really paying attention, I would have to learn to expect the unexpected with this Bella.

"Alright then. We'll keep going. But I have to warn you: the trail gets a little rough further ahead. Think you can manage?"

She squared her shoulder confidently and grinned broadly. "I think I can manage just fine."

"Well, okay then, Miss Brave One." I flexed my wrist and patted the air before us. "Onward."

We resumed our walk again in silence. I let the silence work in things I was not ready to say. More questions, I suppose: but I was really curious to know what she was thinking. She was very hard for me to read, as she wasn't at all like any girl I'd ever met. None of the other trivial concerns seemed to fill her mind. She was contemplative and abrupt: and I liked it.

"What's your favorite song, Edward?" she asked, taking me off guard again. It was the first time she'd said my name, and for some reason, I felt her warmth all over again. But it was the question I was more wary of than anything else. Because it was a question I wasn't comfortable answering.

"Next question," I said a bit sternly.

She looked at me with confusion. "What's so hard about that one?"

"It's just … personal," I said, hoping she would get it and move on. I never talked to anyone about that song. It meant to much to me. I felt if anyone heard it, they would instantly know everything. I couldn't have that. Not with her; not with anyone.

"Okay then. So are you giving me permission to ask a different question?"

"Yeah, sure … if you want." It never really occurred to me that Bella would be interested in knowing things about me as well. Maybe she was just trying to make conversation? Either way, I was interested.

"Have you always been a writer?" she asked. I was an unprepared asshole again. God, this girl paid attention. Well, maybe I was giving her too much credit, as she had seen me writing countless amounts of times in my notebook, and she had heard my presentation in creative writing. But she was interested in it, which was more than I could say for most people.

"Pretty much," I said somewhat evasively. Then I thought this girl deserved a little more for making the effort with such a question. "I didn't have much growing up, and my mom, she was a writer, so she always had a paper and pen in hand, so I guess I got that from her. She was a poet, which I definitely didn't get from her. But she was always encouraging me … telling me to keep writing …" I realized I had gone too far, and instantly regret filled me. I did not want to fucking talk about my mother, especially not with the reincarnation of her scent standing two feet away from me, but there was something about Bella that made me foolishly honest. It was fucking ludicrous: I couldn't tell her about my favorite song but I can impulsively spew some bullshit out about my dead mother. Ridiculous.

But Bella knew what was what. She was perceptive, that girl. "I would consider you a poet," she said, diverting the topic away from my mother and back to her original intent. I shook my head, both grateful and annoyed that she thought she knew what kind of writer I was from one mere example.

"I don't know about that," I said, still shaking my head. "I don't know what kind of writer I am. I don't think it's easily classified, you know? I don't do fucking stanzas or rhyme or some bullshit like that. I don't really care about form. It just … is. It is what it is."

She seemed to contemplate that for a moment, her brow furrowed as if lost in thought. Her eyes shifted toward me momentarily. "It doesn't matter," she said, seemingly confident in what she was about to say. "You're still a poet. Those other kinds of rules don't matter."

"Hmm," I said, not knowing how to argue, or if I even wanted to. Of all things, this girl thought I was a _poet_. Which in some aspects, could be an insult or a compliment, depending on how the accuser was delivering it. But Bella was complementing me; she was basically telling me she liked my shit. I kind of felt like I was on a bit of a high, as no girl had ever read or heard what I had written and had said something to that affect. Rosalie, for example, had had absolutely no interest in my writing. She brushed it off completely, as if she never could be bothered. I couldn't begrudge her too much for it: I was never interested in her shit either. But Bella was interested in something that interested me. I felt lighter, as if I were walking on air instead of leaves and dirt.

I suddenly realized I should be paying more attention to where we were going, as I had been so enwrapped in our conversation and speculation that I hadn't realized how far off path we were walking. Looking around, even in the dark, I could tell that we were very far off course, and that in actuality, I had no idea where we were.

"Fuck!" I said, the beginnings of panic starting to unravel. I had no fucking clue where we were. I looked at my watch and realized that it was past midnight; we had been out here for so long and neither of us had realized it.

"What?" Bella asked, her innocence to the situation obvious.

"I don't know where the fuck we are," I said furiously, whipping around, trying to catch my bearings. We had definitely come from the north, which meant we had to go back south. But I sort of remembered a left turn here or there, but I couldn't think of exactly where it had been. We were cloaked in an even deeper envelopment of trees, and the air was thick with darkness as the moon was shielded by the forest. I was suddenly so pissed at myself for bringing Bella out here when now we were completely lost and it was all my fault.

"Okay," Bella said, obviously attempting to make sense out of our predicament. "We'll just go back the way we came. That should be easy enough, right?" I decided I had to keep my cool, as not to freak Bella out.

"Alright," I agreed. "Let's go."

**BPOV:**

It felt like we had been walking for hours. I looked at my watch, and sure enough, it was well past 2am. I had no idea what direction we were going in anymore, and I could sense Edward's growing frustration and anxiety with every new step that we took. He let out a few verbal indications to his mood, with a random "Fuck!" or "I'm such a fucking asshole" here and there. I really didn't think it was his fault, as we were both pretty distracted and not paying too much attention to where we were going throughout.

But as Edward grew more pissed off with every step, I just grew more tired. So fucking tired. My movements were sluggish and my eyes were glazing over. I couldn't concentrate. I had no idea where we were going. And honestly, I didn't care. I was so far gone I could have curled up at the foot of a tree and passed the fuck out. I barely registered Edward's presence beside me, but I could tell his pace had faltered too. Then suddenly, I had an idea.

"I don't think we're getting anywhere, Edward," I said, my voice sounding shaky and unbalanced. "Why don't we wait it out until morning when we can see where we're going?"

Edward whirled around and stared at me, shocked understanding registering on his face. "No way," he said violently. "No fucking way. I am not having you spend the night out here in the forest in the fucking cold! Out of the question." I was too tired to consider his overreaction to my proposition, but I did barely register that he was in some way worried about me. But all that seemed highly inconsequential, as I was mostly mildly angry that he would be so fully against sleeping it off a little bit before taking it up in the morning. It was a Friday, after all, so we didn't have to worry about waking up for school the next morning.

But none of that mattered. I wanted sleep, and I wanted it now.

"Fuck off," I stuttered, turning around to face the base of a huge tree. I thought I saw some grass near it, and that grass was suddenly more appealing than the thought of my down comforter at the Cullen house. I was sleeping in that grass, and there was no way Edward Cullen was going to stop me.

I tripped with every step as I trudged toward to tree and the grass and barely made it before I fell on my knees and crawled the rest of the way. As soon as my hands touched the grass my eyelids seemed to fall, and my arms gave way from beneath me and I fell flat on my face. But my face was in the grass, which was really so soft, and I didn't have the energy to rearrange myself, so I just stayed in that position.

But Edward didn't approve. "Whoa whoa there," he said, coming from behind me. I felt the warmth from his hands as he moved me from my stomach to my back. I felt movement, and I realized he was carrying me, but not too far, because we seemed to now be at the base of the tree, with the landscape of grass reaching out before us. I partially registered Edward's arms wrapping around me, but then all the rest of it went out of focus.

Sleep came quickly; no music, no distractions.

***

I woke early the next morning, enveloped in an uncertain kind of warmth, as I couldn't remember where I was. Or who the fuck was hugging me. I jumped up quickly, and crawled away from Edward who was leaning against the back of the tree with sleepy haze still foggy in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice mumbled and groggy. "You just looked cold … I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," I said, finally understanding the situation, and the fact that I had been the one to force us into it. "I just forgot … where we were."

He stood, running his hands through his disheveled hair and wiping sleep from his eyes. "Well, I know where we are now. Ready to go home?"

I smiled faintly, thankful for the sunlight, thankful for the sleep, and thankful that Edward had been nice enough to think of making me comfortable in the first place. "Yeah, I'm ready."

He smiled back at me, and I suddenly realized that everything had changed, and more would change. Edward Cullen was changing me. And maybe I was changing him, too.

We walked, again in silence, and Edward found the path with ease and relief swept through me. Because, for once, I was looking forward to going home. Home to the Cullen household.

* * *

**A/N**: Ok, this chapter was _so_ fun to write, and hopefully it was just as fun to read as well. We'll see what plays out next time around, but I DO anticipate more juice. NOT lemon juice, naughty girls ;)

I forgot to thank all the wonderful people who reviewed, and especially all those who wished me a successful and safe trip to Oregon (it was both). And again, thanks to anyone who has recced this story at L/L or anywhere else … it truly makes my day when I see that.

And more reviews, por favor? Make my day, lovelies. :)


	7. Aenima

Disclaimer: story=mine. twilight=not mine.

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Chapter Seven: Aenima

_Don't just call me pessimist.  
Try and read between the lines. _(mjk)

**BPOV:**

I turned the knobs in the shower up fully to the hottest setting and stepped in slowly, letting the cascade of pounding water wash over me and soften the knots in my back and the tightness in my shoulders. The tenseness that had physically affected me was not due to the somewhat compromising position I'd found myself in upon awaking this morning, nor was it because of the fact that I'd slept in the cold forest rather than tucked away in the plush queen size bed I was shamefully getting used to. Walking into the Cullen house with Edward by my side when we had been missing all night … well, it wasn't the easiest of situations to explain. Dr. Cullen's fuming mannerisms and rigid body language confirmed that he sure as hell expected an explanation. But neither Edward or I seemed exactly privy as to how to gently approach the task of letting our foster father know that we had been spending nearly every single night in each other's company.

Not that the company was really something that anyone should be worried about. I mean, for Christ's sake, last night was the first real conversation we'd ever had. But although we'd never verbally discussed the matter, both of us seemed to understand that the nature of our relationship was not something we should go talking about to everyone. Because it was too fucking weird. The only thing we had in common was silence and cigarettes.

And now, well, music … but only in the vaguest of terms. We'd both always known, I'm sure, in one respect or another, that each of us were musically inclined. Edward was definitely more cryptic about it, as he wouldn't even tell me his favorite song, and even failed to recognize that being a music fan is a pretty a-typical trademark of any average person. He was a bit arrogant … as if I didn't know that already. But his arrogance didn't turn me off, as I had initially expected it to. Instead, I wanted to prove him wrong, and smooth his cynicism aside and prove to him that maybe not everything was as fucked up as he believed it to be.

Which was really fucking crazy considering that I myself was quite fond of my conviction that the world at large sucks and people are generally self-serving and naive and inherently diabolical. But something inside of me was almost desperately wanting Edward to not feel the same. I wanted him to see the world in a fairer light. As I lifted my face up toward the pounding water, I thought again of his eyes; those shocking green eyes. I thought because they were so beautiful, everything they see should be equally as beautiful.

But, regardless of all of these revelations that I was currently reveling in, Edward and I still had to face Dr. Cullen when we came home from the woods this morning. And he was not pleased. Relieved, I think, that we were unharmed, but definitely not happy that we had spent the night away from home. And all of his anger was fixated with unwavering ferocity on Edward.

"This is absolutely unacceptable," Dr. Cullen seethed as soon as we had walked into the door. "Bella, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, which was true, all things considered. I looked over at Edward, and his face was a hardened mask, although I could detect a faint shudder of irritation from his features. "We went for a walk and got turned around in the woods. I'm sorry if you were worried."

"It's okay, Bella, just as long as you're unharmed." Dr. Cullen turned and looked at me intently and I thought he was examining me, making sure no apparent physical damage had been done. I was embarrassed, as I was really not used to having someone be so obviously concerned with my well being.

I glanced over at Edward, his face still hardened and expressionless. I wanted him to say something, anything, when suddenly, it hit me. He didn't want Dr. Cullen to know what we were doing. No one knew about our evenings; no one knew about our silent conversations and our newly acquired verbal one. I was crushed by the truth. Edward didn't want anyone to know. And if I were being even more honest with myself, I couldn't rightly blame him. He had a girlfriend, one who would surely be displeased if she knew about how much time Edward and I spent together. Of course, there was really nothing for her to be angry or jealous about: she had him completely, and I had heard the vocal evidence of that. Thinking of it again made me shudder, which made both Edward and Dr. Cullen look at me. I couldn't bear to try to further analyze either of their expressions, so I gave a half smile and made my way up the stairs.

As I opened the door to my room, I heard the beginnings of heated conversation coming from where I'd left them, but I decided I was too exhausted to try to listen to it. So I grabbed my things and made my way into a very long and semi fulfilling shower.

A few hours later, I had resigned myself to completing some of the History homework I had seriously and explicitly ignored, when there was a knock at my door. Bracing myself for conversation with Alice, I called out, "Come in," to the person who stood outside of my bedroom door.

But much to my surprise, Dr. Cullen opened the door and peeked his head through. "May I come in?" I answered him with a short nod, already feeling a wave of discomfort pulsate through me. I had conveniently avoided a lot of conversation with Dr. Cullen thus far, as I wasn't too keen on growing close with adults, especially those who reigned temporary custody over me. As every situation I had been in had been just that, temporary, it was more tactful and comfortable for all parties involved if I just kept my wary distance. But something told me that Dr. Cullen was not one of those adults that I could sidestep or ignore; something told me he wanted me comfortable in a way that was outside of my usual comfort zone.

"I'd like to know how you're adjusting, Bella," he said, closing the door behind him and leaning his back against it. "I know you've had somewhat of a rough time in the past, with other homes, but I want to reiterate that this home, the Cullen home, is now as much yours as it is any of ours. I know all the rest of it may take some getting used to … but in every sense, Bella, this is your home."

I studied the beautiful man's face quietly for a moment. Dr. Cullen, in the span of two weeks, had already proven himself to be far more accommodating and parental than any of the other foster parents I'd lived with in the past. And as much as I tried to be cautious of it, I found myself knowing and utterly believing that he truly meant every word that he said. Dr. Cullen wasn't on some God mission by taking in foster children, nor was he doing it to receive an extra monthly check in the mail when the time came. He was doing this solely out of the good nature of his heart, and the thought of living under someone's roof who was so thoughtful and generous nearly brought tears to my eyes.

But I held them back, and merely smiled and nodded in response.

"Good," he said, nodding with me, his brow settling slightly. "There's just one more thing I'd like to talk with you about, if you don't mind." I nodded again, giving him the okay to go forward. "Edward wouldn't really dispel any details about the how's and why's of your spending the night in the woods, and I'm not going to press the matter with you, either. Now, I know Edward can be quite difficult, and though I love him like he were my own, he does have the tendency to commit rash and spiteful acts. It is unfortunate that he is prone to such behavior, as he is such a gifted and intelligent boy. But he doesn't let many people get too close to him, and those that do, he eventually pushes away with some vindictive devise."

He paused, letting this sink in, and he shook his head, as if he were ashamed of what he was saying. "I know I may sound overly critical of my son, but I just want you to be careful. It is very important to me that you are able to find yourself comfortable and at peace here, and I would hate for anything, or anyone, to disrupt that transition."

I was overwhelmed with a tidal wave of mixed emotions. Firstly, I wanted to thank Dr. Cullen for being so goddamn nice to me in the first place, and for thinking of my comfort and of my well being. Then, I wanted to scream and give him the middle finger for thinking that I was so fucking fragile and that I couldn't take care of myself against whatever cruel intentions Edward may or may not have. And lastly, and this was what threw me off the most, lastly I wanted to defend Edward with everything I had in me, and shove Dr. Cullen's pretentious misgivings right back in his face and make him understand that maybe because people thought of him this way and treated him this way, Edward was just in the midst of some self fulfilling prophecy. It was these fucking self righteous and hypocritical assholes who judge and over criticize that make people vindictive. Although I had nothing tangible to prove it to me, I could in no way believe that Edward would ever do anything deliberate to hurt me.

But I didn't say any of this. I couldn't say any of this.

"Thank you for your concern, Dr. Cullen," I said politely. "Edward seems like an okay guy. I think it'll be fine."

"Alright then," he said, moving his hand over the doorknob. "I know you're quite self sufficient, and I hope I didn't step on any toes. Just know that you can come to me, always, whenever and if ever you need anything."

I smiled and nodded my head at him and watched him walk out the door. As soon as I was alone I flopped flat on my back and pulled a pillow over my face. I wanted to scream. Who was Edward Cullen, really? And why was he so much a focus of everything; the center to this churning storm?

One thing was certain: Dr. Cullen's warnings would in no way dissuade me. I was going to find out who Edward Cullen really was, and I was going to do it soon.

Fate, though, as it often does, had other plans.

***

I spent the entire rest of the day holed up in my bedroom, trying to devise a not too obvious way of truly befriending Edward. At six, I left to start dinner for the family, part one of my nightly routine. As it always was, this night's dinner was attended by Dr. Cullen, Alice, and Jasper, and we held brief and casual conversation as I served a tomato bisque soup with salad. My uninspired dinner was probably a reflection of my mood: I was only too eager to get this part out of the way so I could go outside and wait for Edward to meet me.

But he never came.

I waited for nearly four hours. The last hour I'd long ago ran out of cigarettes, but I couldn't bring myself to leave, so sure that he would then come sauntering up with that lazy half smile on his face and his headphones to his ears.

When I finally realized and accepted he wasn't coming I felt my throat close up and my chin started quivering, though I in no way wanted to let myself feel the stings of rejection by someone who wasn't even available to reject me in the first place. I made myself remember Rosalie, though I really hadn't seen her all that much lately, and I imprinted her physical perfection like a bitter stamp in my mind so I would never again forget the person Edward chose to be with.

Though I managed to avoid the onslaught of tears, I couldn't avoid it all. Thinking of the likelihood that Edward and Rosalie were probably together, my heart started to pound incessantly, and my breathing wavered, and the panic overtook me without warning and sentiment. I crouched from my seat on the bench and curled in fetal position, allowing myself the moment to ride it out. I thought of the Xanax I had securely tucked away in my bag, and pulled myself back up, willing the self control to quiet the sobs long enough to make it through the house without letting anyone know what was going on.

Once I'd made it safely into my room and had swallowed my drug of choice, I decided to try and avoid the mirror tonight, as I didn't want to risk running into Rosalie or Edward while in the midst of this state. Instead, I undressed and curled myself under the covers. Once the numbness spread from my abdomen out into my limbs I let myself revel in the calmness that was now overwhelming me, instead of the maddening bitterness that was crushing me before.

Exhausted from the tears and my chest aching from all the cigarettes and sobs, I let myself think one last thought of Edward. Knowing what it would take for me to figure him out, more than the story of his background or his parents or where he came from. If I could somehow find out what his song was, his favorite song, then I believed I would finally have him figured out. Somehow, I thought, that had to be the key.

But Edward avoided me as thoroughly as he did that very first day. He stopped riding to school with Alice and I, and I could only assume he got a ride from Rosalie or Emmett. He missed three days of Creative Writing and came stumbling in on the fourth day the very second the bell rang.

I had only gone out to our bench one last time before realizing that Edward was never going to come again, and before I let the panic of this realization swallow me whole, I turned my music louder and made a resolution to find something else to occupy my time. I buried myself in my school work; fully absorbing myself in my History and Algebra homework as a way of distracting myself from thinking about the obvious.

Creative Writing homework, however, was a different story entirely. Because thinking of that class only made me think of him and the fact that he had not been there for over half of the week. When I sat down to write, the only clear image that I could focus on was of Edward's face. Sometimes they were brief memories of him; like the way his eyes peacefully glaze over whenever he's listening to something that seems to really move him, or the way he face pulled and showed signs of distress when he realized we were lost in the woods.

It was that night, I think, that must have really changed everything for us. I got too close, or he got too close, or we got too close … And though I tried not to let myself focus too intently on the memory of waking up with his arms wrapped around me, I felt as though it was impossible to ignore. Although it had momentarily caught me off guard, waking up I had felt so warm and safe and comfortable. And maybe that crossed a line in Edward's book, which would make some sort of sense, as he did have a girlfriend and all. But that morning … he really didn't seem to mind, and it was he that had made the decision to hold me in the first place …

But regardless of all of these factors, on that fourth day, when Edward finally decided to make an appearance in class, I was almost past the point of obsessing over him. Sure, my heart fluttered and my ears and face got hot when I realized he was coming my way to sit in his assigned seat beside me, but I had resolved not to make his presence the sole focus of my day. I thought of what Dr. Cullen had said, and how he warned me to keep my distance from Edward, and for the first time, I wondered if I should take his advice.

He took his seat without ever once looking over at me, and I clenched my fists in front of me as to steady myself from having a reaction. Although I tried not to look over at him, I did notice he did not have his notebook out in front of him as he usually did. His focus was purely and intently on leaning as far away from me as possible; that much was obvious. My throat burned with pent up tears, and I wished for this hour to go by quickly.

With all the resolve I had left, I turned all of my attention back to Mr. Banner, who was standing at the front of the class.

"Now that it seems as though we have our even number of students back," Mr. Banner said, throwing a very pointed look in Edward's direction, "I am very excited to announce the final project for the semester. I know it's still early to be thinking about that sort of thing for many of you, but this project is based on an intensive collaboration of sorts. With your partner, I'd like to see a completely cohesive and collaborative piece form fluidly from the both of you. The medium can be whatever you choose: poetry, prose, fiction … anything that is based in some sort of literary genre. I will give you more details when the deadline approaches, but for now, I'd like you to meet with your partner and discuss what type of writing form you'd like to explore together."

I sat very very still. I knew I had heard all of Mr. Banner's instructions correctly, but I momentarily doubted whether or not I could believe the validity of my own ears. I heard people start to partner up, and their excited voices moved about me as they discussed how they would go about doing this final project together. I could feel the right side of my face start to burn up and I knew Edward was looking at me, expecting me to do something. I decided I would do all I could to be tactful.

"Okay," I said, my voice coming up much stronger than I'd expected, "so we have to do this project together. What would be the best thing for us to collaborate on?"

But he just sat there, staring me. I willed my face not to get any hotter and for my skin not to get any redder, but it was beyond my control. Those green eyes could do whatever they wanted to my skin, and it made the rest of me boil with anger.

"Edward? Do you have an opinion on the matter? Look, I know it's not the most ideal of situations, us working together, but we have to make the most of it. Maybe I could just do my part and you could do your part separately and then when it's due we can just throw it together."

He sighed, finally breaking eye contact from me. I breathed a deep sigh of relief as the pressure from his stare left me.

"No," he said, in almost a whisper. "It's fine. We can do this project together."

"Okay then." I couldn't help it: I hadn't heard the sound of his voice in so long, it made my heart leap. How fucking embarrassing. "So we don't have all the details on the project yet, but do you know what you want to work on?"

He just shook his head slowly, and then he was staring at me all over again. "I'm sorry," he said, his words coming out a bit strangled. "I'm sorry for taking you out in the woods that night. It wasn't right."

His words surprised me so much my head flew up in response. "_That's_ what you're sorry for?" I said, almost too loudly. "Of all things, you're sorry for that?"

"What else would I have to be sorry for?"

"God, Edward." The frustration was rising inside me as fast and steadily as bile. "If you need me to tell you, then it's not even worth it."

Mr. Banner called everyone's attention back to the front of the class, and so I had to push down all of the anger that was mounting and suppress it for the rest of the class period. Although Edward didn't spend the entire time staring at me, I did catch him sneak a few glimpses my way, but I made sure never to make eye contact. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.

When the bell rang, it was me who jumped from my seat and bolted to the exit, not him this time. But what little it mattered anyway, because he very quickly caught up with me.

"Hey," he said, a bit breathless. I kept my pace fast and strategic, with my head placed firmly forward. "Hey!" he said again, this time stepping in front of me, forcing me to stop straight in my tracks.

"Look," he said, he mouth turning down slightly. "I'm not very good at this, okay? And you're right, I probably do have a lot more to be sorry for, but that was just the first thing that came to mind."

"Do you want me to give you the list?"

He smiled, which made most of my anger dissipate. "You have a list?"

"Yeah. It's not too long … I'm sure your girlfriend's is much longer."

"My girlfriend?" he said, shock and aggravation plainly vivid in his tone. "Who the fuck is my girlfriend?"

"Rosalie," I said forcefully, because for some reason, I was starting to feel really stupid, like I had been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Maybe I wasn't supposed to know about Rosalie? If I did know, would he think I was crazy? No … we lived together … it was more than fucking obvious.

He came suddenly closer to me, until his face was mere inches away from mine and his honey sweet breath was filling my lungs. I felt momentarily light headed, as if I were going to pass out from exhaustion or euphoria. He eyes moved back and forth, searching mine, until we were utterly lost in each other's stares. We weren't at school anymore; we weren't in the courtyard with hundreds of kids walking around us with the sounds of bells whistling and teachers yelling. We were completely alone, him and I, in this strange and weirdly intimate moment.

"Rosalie," he said, the smell of him everywhere, "is not my girlfriend."

"Okay," I whispered, my head still spinning. He was still so close I could touch him, and I realized my hand was lifting, as if possessed by the need to discover what his skin felt like against my palm.

But he moved away very quickly, and then we were back at school, and the intimacy was gone.

"I'll see you tonight," he said, backing away from me. "By the way, what are you making for dinner?"

That question completely took me off guard, as Edward had never once been in attendance when I'd made dinner. "Um, mushroom ravioli, I think."

"Sounds good," he said, a smile lighting up his face. "See you then." And then he was gone, absorbed into the sea of teenagers and teachers. My heartbeat hitched as it belatedly dawned on me that Edward was going to be eating dinner, my dinner, tonight. After four days of not talking, he had made the decision to completely change our routine.

But more than that: Edward and Rosalie were not a couple. I couldn't decide how to feel about that for the moment, so I just let myself feel what came naturally: pure and totally unjustified relief.

* * *

**A/N:** So I really want to thank everyone who has been sticking by this story and for all the incredible amount of patience you all have shown. It means a lot. I had a freakishly busy last couple of weeks, and I have quite a demanding semester ahead, so I will warn you that my updating will probably not be as frequent as I would like. I will NOT abandon this story, I can promise you that much, so if you stick with it, I'll stick with it.

I kept this chapter all BPOV, so that's why it's a little short. Chapter 8 will be all Edward … and there really is some crazy shit going through that boy's head. But it's starting … the connection is starting …

Love to all … hopefully chapter 8 will be up by the end of this week. Give me inspiration with reviews?


	8. Lateralus

OMG. what say you, an update so soon? Edward really wanted his turn to talk, is all. A/N after chapter.

* * *

Chapter Eight: Lateralus

_feed my will to feel this moment urging me to cross the line.  
reaching out to embrace the random.  
reaching out to embrace whatever may come. (mjk)_

**EPOV:**

I knew I had a lot of things I should be sorry for. I knew my apologies should go out to a number of different individuals, some whose names I couldn't even think without my insides getting all twisted up. Sometimes I would slip up, and really think of my mother, of how after my father left we became an inseparable team, so close no one could could interrupt or break the tightly woven bonds her and I had formed.

I would think of her waiting for me at the bus stop after school, or the way she would slip notes or poems in my lunch sack. I would think of the way the cancer hit her as quickly and unsentimental as a plane crash; the disease slamming into her insides, leaving her as thin and as frail as an Ethiopian child. I would sit at her bedside and read to her from some of her favorite books, and she would brush the hair off my forehead and make herself smile even though she knew she was dying.

At the end, when she had lost all the energy to speak, all of the anger she had about things she could not say would flash with horrified oppression in her eyes. Then the social workers would be as ever present as the doctors, talking in condescending hushed tones, trying to make sure that I really did not have any other family. Even as a twelve year old boy, I knew my mother was not going to go in peace because she was consumed with worry about where I was going to end up; about who was going to take care of me after she was gone.

And for that, for that I was so sorry. In my mother's final hour, with her last breath and when that last light left her eyes, she was frightened and worried about my well being. She hated herself for leaving me. And I could never bring myself to ever feel even the slightest amount of anger at her, only at myself for having made her last days and weeks and months more difficult for her than it should have been. She should have only concentrated on getting better. Instead, she made herself even more sick with the worry that somehow, I was not going to be okay.

Maybe I wasn't okay at first. Still reeling from the death of my mother, I was thrust into a group home with over a dozen other lost or unwanted kids. It was not the worst, I knew it could have been worse, but it was there where I vowed to never completely open myself up to anyone ever again. If losing my mother had taught me anything, it had taught me only to be self reliant. People leave, fathers leave, and mothers die. If the two people you were supposed to depend on since birth could abandon you, either willingly or unwillingly, then the rest of the human population had to be completely for shit.

So I lost myself in myself, and turned to no one and befriended no one. I got in a few fights, when people got too close; one fight that left me with a jagged and twisted scar that I have on my lower left abdomen. I know Rosalie had seen it before, but she never asked me about it. Maybe Carlisle had told her: he knew just about all of the specifics when it came to my time in the system. But not how it affected me. Not the real specifics; not the shit that mattered. Never told that to anyone.

So maybe I should be feeling guilty toward Carlisle too, since he took me in and gave me the closest resemblance to home I'd ever found. Maybe he had put up with a lot of my shit, and maybe he was just trying to do what was best. For me. For Bella.

Because he didn't trust me. And why should he? I'd only proven my indifference over the years; my lack of compassion. I'd said please and thank you and walked that straight and narrow but when it came down to it I was never really here. I didn't give a shit about anyone and in turn they didn't give a shit about me.

But I didn't want it to be like that anymore. I felt empty, but also incredibly alive, like I was finally picking at the wounds and not letting the pain just scab over. I was ready to feel again.

But not like this. Not this way.

That night in the woods I had severely let my guard down. I'd opened up; not completely, but more than I should. But the more time I spent with Bella, the less I cared. The talking with her was just as comfortable as the silence. It was weird and confusing and probably a little fucked up, but I _liked_ it. I liked having someone to share a moment with.

I had her sleep with my arms around her, not because I particularly wanted to, but because I didn't want the girl to get pneumonia. And it was fucking hard as hell having that petite little thing curl right up on me without a moment's hesitation and fall right asleep before I could even say goodnight. That goddamn smell of hers was intoxicating, and for a few minutes there I literally tried holding my breath or strictly breathing out of my mouth. But I couldn't hold it, and the temptation to breathe her in was stronger than the creeping urge to wrap my arms around her.

So I did it: I let my guard down and I sucked in that potent, beautiful scent, and the force of it nearly knocked me unconscious, it was that powerful. Her brown hair was right in my face, and the peonies and sage was all over it, and I inhaled deeply, over and over again, absorbing the scent into my system, slowly becoming desensitized. I wanted to press my face in her hair with my eyes shut; I wanted to stroke her hair and admire its silkiness, but that would be wrong, all of it, so I didn't. I almost thought I would get hard with her leaning up against me, but it didn't feel right, not with her completely passed out like that. So I just wrapped my arms around her to prevent any further frostbite and drifted off to sleep, lost in the woods, leaning against a tree.

And I'm so fucking stupid, I thought it all could go back to normal the next day. I thought we could just get along and keep doing our private smoke sessions and let it all just be as it was. And it was more than Carlisle finding out, really. It was just waking up that morning, with Bella in my arms, I had almost forgotten that my walls were erected to be forever kept up. But she felt so warm and soft and she smelled so fucking beautiful that my walls wanted to come crashing down, tumbling down without effort, and I wanted to curl up on the grass beside her and have her stroke _my_ hair and tell me everything was going to be okay.

Maybe it was just the fact that she smelled like my mother. Maybe it was completely fucking with my head. But either way, I felt like sobbing. I felt like completely breaking down right then and there and leaving all the rest of it up to chance. And the really fucking weird thing was: I wasn't sad. I felt a deranged sort of happiness; a happiness that is not factually based and holds no consequence for time or reality. It just exists. It just is. And I felt really fucking happy, waking up that morning in the woods with Bella in my arms for no goddamn reason.

Of course I hid it; of course I didn't show one measure of it. It took me too off guard. What was I to do with this newfound, ridiculous emotion that I really never felt before and therefore had no way of knowing how to channel it? So I stuffed it down. Like I do with all the rest of my emotions. And we walked in silence, back to the house, and I was thinking about asking her more questions. I was thinking I wanted to get to know her better. I was wondering what the rest of her food tasted like, because after all this time, I had still only enjoyed the taste of that motherfucking French toast she'd made, and I had a feeling she was a really amazing cook. But the craziest thing was, I wanted to know about where she'd come from. And I usually didn't give two dimes about where anyone came from. Because asking someone about their past just invites them to turn the tables back on me. And I could never handle that before. But at that moment, walking home with Bella, I really believed that I could.

But I hadn't anticipated Carlisle's reaction. I hadn't anticipated that he would be really fucking angry, because he really doesn't let much bother him. But he was livid. He didn't show it in front of Bella, of course, as none of it was really her fault, and he seemed to understand that. I knew he was furious with me. As soon as Bella had left the room he'd let me have it, warning me not to take advantage of her and not to toy with her emotions because she'd been through a lot.

"I've seen you do this before, Edward," he'd warned, his voice thick with judgment and parental disapproval, "and I will not have you mistreat Bella in any shape or form. Do you understand me?"

I did, of course, because he knew what he was talking about. I'd befriended Alice early on; she was uncomplicated and full of energy, and it was a welcome relief from the turmoil I'd experienced at my last home. But as soon as she got too close, as soon as she started asking too many questions, I'd exploded, completely turning on her, leaving her completely vulnerable and unable to trust me for nearly a year after that.

Similar issues had risen with Rosalie. Our connection was always purely physical from the start, but when she pushed the emotional boundaries, which she tried to do after only a couple weeks of us screwing, I'd exploded again, and this time left a hole in my wall from my fist. Carlisle had a right to be wary of my reactions; he had a right not to trust me around the people he brought into his home.

I didn't say anything to him; I barely let myself have a reaction. Although I had eventually been forgiven by Alice for how I'd treated her, I didn't want to be responsible for treating Bella that way. I couldn't do that to her. Just as I had felt before, I was overwhelmed with a surge of protectiveness, but again, it was a desire to protect her from myself.

So I did what I thought was best: I avoided her. Fueled by Carlisle's reaction, I made myself keep a safe and steady distance. If it happened now, if I pulled away from her now before I got too close, then no one would get hurt. I wouldn't explode, Bella wouldn't ask questions, and everything that had happened would just fade away into nothingness.

But it didn't exactly worked out as I'd planned. Because although I stopped going to our spot at night, and I stopped going to school even, I couldn't bring myself to completely stay away. The first night I didn't meet her outside for our shared silence and cigarettes, I crawled up to the roof of the house and watched her. I felt a little stalkerish, perched up there, watching her wait for me, but I couldn't bring myself to turn away. Eventually, though, it became more than I could bear, as Bella ran out of cigarettes and still sat there, waiting. Maybe she wasn't waiting. Maybe she was just enjoying the night. But I felt like an asshole and I couldn't watch her anymore. I climbed down and went into the safety of my bedroom.

Two nights and two desperate days later, I came home from a long and blinded walk in the woods to find Rosalie sitting on top of my desk. I was worn and tired and hungry and almost completely emotionless, so seeing her sitting there did nothing but fuel my exhaustion.

"Hello Edward," she said, a sly smile spreading on her face. "How have you been? Haven't seen you much lately."

"Busy," I muttered, turning away from her and flopping on my bed. Whatever Rosalie had in store for me, I really wasn't in the mood. I just wanted to blast my music and focus very intently on not thinking.

"Yeah, I can see that," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes in the process. "Look, Edward, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. So can you please, at least pretend to listen."

"I'm all ears, Rosalie," I said without really meaning it.

"Okay, well here it is. Lately, I've been getting closer with somebody. With Emmett, actually. We've been spending a lot of time together, and he's actually a really great guy." She sighed, flipping her hair like she always did when she is nervous or frustrated. "We've been … seeing each other; dating, I guess, is the more appropriate term. I really like him, Edward." She paused, and I sat up and ran my hands through my hair.

"And why the fuck are you telling me this?"

"Because, Edward!" She stood, and for the first time in forever, it occurred to me that Rose wasn't just my fuck buddy; wasn't just some unemotional shell. She was a person; she was a girl. And I realized that this was my problem with everyone: I put them into some unjustified box and category, trapping them into this oddly fit position as to how I saw them in my life. And it wasn't fair, none of it. I was an asshole, and I knew it.

"Because I'm happy, and Emmett cares about me, and I thought you should know. Because I want you to be happy, because I think you deserve it. After all this time, after everything that's happened between us, I realized how right you were the other day. What we had wasn't real, and I think we've both known that for a long time now. But you were the one smart enough to break it off. But now Edward … now I'm ready for something real in my life. And that's okay!" She stopped, and took a deep breath, and it suddenly dawned on me that this was the most honest Rosalie had ever been with me in all my years of knowing her.

"I just … thought you should know," she said, her voice becoming soft again. She stood, turning to leave, but she hesitated when she got to my door. "I meant what I said, Edward. I want you to be happy."

"I don't know what the fuck that means."

She turned to face me, remorse clearly visible on her face. "I think you do. I think it's right in front of you Edward." She shook her head, and hesitantly smiled. "I heard about the woods … about you and Bella."

My head snapped up, and every vile and disrespectful thing I'd ever thought about Rosalie came tumbling back to the surface. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"I know," she said, not letting my tone affect her. "But still. I think it's good for you." She gave me one last smile, and stepped out of my room, closing the door behind her.

***

Two nights later, I was sitting at the dining room table, which had been lengthened for all the guests it was accommodating, waiting for Bella's dinner. She was in the kitchen with Alice, putting on those final preparations, I guessed, and I was seated with Carlisle, Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper. It was a family affair, and no one was making any conversation. Rosalie and Emmett were sitting beside one another, talking in low whispers, their heads nuzzled side by side. It was enough to make me want to vomit, but not because I was jealous, it was just pretty embarrassing, for all of us that were non-coupled still sitting there.

Jasper and Alice were also a couple, of course- but they had been together for a long time now and therefore knew how to handle themselves in social gatherings. Rosalie and Emmett were quite obviously in the euphoric "new couple" stage. It made my heart sink, but for reasons that had nothing at all to do with Rose.

I hadn't seen Bella since school today, and I had decided to walk home instead of taking a ride with Alice. I had thought about the obvious awkwardness that had ensued because of my absence, and wondered what kind of effect, if any, it had had on her. She was pissed though, and wasn't shy about showing it.

But it had thrown me for a loop that she had thought that Rosalie was my girlfriend. I didn't know she had assumptions about me, but then I suppose she _had_ heard the sounds of our sex the first day she got here, so it was likely that she would make some sort of distinction. I had never belabored that issue, although I now realized I should have given it more consideration. I had dispelled the idea that Rosalie and I were a couple, probably leaving Bella to think that we just used each other for sex. Which, while it was happening, wasn't too far from the truth-but I knew I didn't want Bella to think of me like that. That pissed me off even further, since in actuality, that was who I was. At least where Rose was concerned.

"So," Jasper said, breaking the quiet. I looked him over, the guy who had stolen my sister's heart. He was a pretty good guy- soft spoken, intelligent without being pretentious, and completely enamored with Alice. I wondered why finding a connection with someone and letting that person in is easier for some people than others. It was a stupid thought-it was just hard for me. Hard because I make it hard. "Anybody know what's on the menu for tonight?"

"Mushroom ravioli," I said, which of course made everyone turn to me and stare.

"You talked to Bella about dinner?" Carlisle asked, clearly surprised. "This is your first night eating with us, Edward."

"Yeah," I stumbled. "I talked to her after class. Sounded too good to miss, I guess."

"Well, it's our first time eating her dinner too," Rosalie drawled, eyes still locked on Emmett. They were officially grossing me out with their unhidden love fest. "Couldn't hide away forever, now could we, Em?"

"You know I don't have a problem with that, babe," Emmett said, massaging Rosalie's back.

I stood abruptly, knocking my chair over in the process. "I'm going to see if they need any help in there." And I got the fuck out of that love nest as fast as I could.

I peaked my head through the kitchen door and saw Bella and Alice huddled over the stove, their heads close together, talking in apparent whispers. I watched them for a moment before I made my presence known, stupidly realizing that my sister and Bella had formed a friendship without me realizing it. I had been so stuck in my head-so twisted up in my own little world for so long that I couldn't see what was right in front of me. _Pathetic_.

I cleared my throat, and they both whirled around, startled by the intrusion. Alice smiled, but Bella adverted her eyes, turning back to the dish in front of her. "Jasper's looking for an ETA," I said. _Keep it light, don't be an idiot._

"Oh for God's sake," Alice said, playfully rolling her eyes. "I'll be right back, Bella."

I stood in the same spot when Alice left, considering what I should do. Probably what I said I was going to come in here and do in the first place.

"Need some help with that?" I said, slowly walking up behind her.

She looked at me from over her shoulder, her brown eyes unintentionally seductive under those thick, black lashes of hers. "Why? You have some sort of expertise in the kitchen?"

I felt newly confident, as if this lightness to our conversation had suddenly given me the balls I thought I'd lost. I came closer, until I was standing right next to her, nearly as close as she and Alice had been. "Not really," I said, smirking at her. "But I can eat among the best of them."

"Hah!" She laughed loudly. "That's bullshit-I've never seen you eat a thing. I swear one day I'm going to find you grazing outside on the grass like a cow."

She was teasing me. She was fucking teasing me. No girl, beside Alice, had ever lightly teased me. Realizing this, I realized something else, something far more pertinent: we were flirting. Edward Cullen and Bella Swan were engaged in flirting. That weird and fucked happy feeling I'd had that morning in the woods didn't just creep back, it _swelled_ inside of me. I felt really lame, but for the first time, I didn't really fucking care.

"Are you calling me a cow?" I said, raising my eyebrows at her. She raised hers back at me, and smirked into her ravioli.

"If the name fits …"

"Well," I said, and suddenly, we were even closer, and I couldn't remember who had inched forward, me or her; but then I thought it must have been her, as she was no longer facing her ravioli but directly facing me. We were _thisclose_ to one another; our noses practically touched. Her smell was invading all of my senses, and without my consent my dick throbbed. I was hard and pulsing under my jeans, and until this point, I hadn't even realized I was sexually attracted to Bella.

"Well?" she whispered, and it felt like she was even closer, if it were possible to get any closer without actually touching. My right arm moved from my side and I braced myself against the kitchen counter. I wanted to kiss her. I had never wanted to kiss a girl before; I had only wanted to fuck girls. But Bella, this Bella Swan, I wanted to kiss.

I looked down at her lips and they were quivering slightly, and I understood that she wanted me to kiss her too. They were parted somewhat and her full bottom lip stuck out in anticipation. She was peonies and sage and nutmeg all over and I wanted to know what it tasted like; I wanted to take Bella into my mouth and never fucking let her go.

Her little pink tongue darted out and she licked her lips, and she was so close, I _could_ almost taste her. Her hand lifted and then her hand was on top of mine; her fingers draped over my knuckles ever so lightly and I swear to fucking God there was electricity to her touch. My dick pulsed again, and we were so close, she might have felt it.

"Well," I whispered, and finally my lips were touching hers, and the electricity that illuminated from her hands was also present on her mouth. We weren't yet fully kissing, as my lips just delicately brushed against hers. But I was fucking savoring this moment; so in awe that I was capable of not only just feeling, but feeling _this_. The most unexpected of the unexpected. Her fingers jerked on top of my hand, and I knew she was just as eager as I was.

"OH!" someone said shrilly, and Bella and I both instinctively pulled away from each other. _Fuck you Alice_.

She was standing in the kitchen doorway, her hand covering her mouth in unmasked surprise. All the anticipation and hormones that had just been coursing through me had now been immediately replaced with undiluted annoyance, and a twinge of regret. I looked over at Bella, and she was back in front of the stove, mindlessly whisking the pasta sauce as if nothing had happened. Her ears were pink, which was the only giveaway that she was a little embarrassed.

"What's going on, Edward?" Alice demanded, obviously protective over her new best friend.

"Nothing, Alice," Bella answered for me, turning around to face us both. "It was just a weird moment." She looked away from Alice, and looked me directly in the eye. "A moment that's passed."

I'm sure my face showed it all, but I willed the self control to not do or say something I would regret. But I couldn't help it. "Fucking gone," I said with venom. I saw Bella flinch and I saw that she maybe didn't mean it in the way that I was taking it, but it was too late. It was all said and done.

I went out the side door to the backyard and took a cigarette out. Part of me wanted to stay on the bench and wait for her, but the rest of me, that residual, eternally pissed off part, couldn't deal. I went out into the woods, down the same path Bella and I had taken a few nights ago.

But as pissed off as I was; as pissed as I was at Alice for walking in on us and at Bella for basically saying it was a potential mistake, I was more pissed off at myself. There were a lot of reasons, and probably a lot of things I should be sorry for, but the only thing I could think about was how fucking starving I was. But dinner was at home, where Bella was, and it was her dinner. And at this point, there was no going back.

* * *

**A/N:** First and foremost, THANK YOU to everyone who has read and reviewed. I'm so sorry if I haven't responded, and I was actually going to do so today, but then I got caught up in this chapter. I love you x 9893434736 though, I swear.

So, this chapter wasn't supposed to be up till this weekend. But then I thought: I should split this chapter up, so that's what I did. Because there's a shitload going on here, at least in my opinion. Like ... almost kiss?! It makes me slightly giddy.

Next chapter: possibly mixed POV's … but heavy on the dialogue. More on Bella's past (including exes) and slightly more on Edward's. Also, more Alice, because she's been too absent thus far and I need to flesh her out. ANDDD where's Esme, you say? Stay tuned …

OH, and yes, all of my chapter titles and corresponding quotes are all from Tool songs. As mentioned before, Tool is the only band that Edward listens to. Why? It just fit my vision of him. It's heavy shit, and that's his cup o' tea. Favorite song? Hopefully Bella can uncover that one …


	9. Thinking of You

Ok guys – I'm so sorry it's been as long as it has. School and work have literally been kicking my butt into oblivion. I appreciate your patience!

Summary of last chapter (since it's been a decade or two): Edward plans to attend the family dinner, but him and Bella find themselves in an almost kiss moment before being interrupted by Alice. Edward, upset at Bella's reaction, runs off before all can be explained, and resolved.

Here is the aftermath:

* * *

Chapter Nine: Thinking of You

_Sweet revelation, sweet surrender_

_Thinking of you … (mjk)_

**BPOV:**

"Can I just say, what the hell?" I glared at Alice from the opposite end of the kitchen, secretly wishing I was capable of injecting my gaze with as much venom as Edward regularly did. Of course, I felt more along the lines of super freak out/panic attack mode, so being angry at Alice was definitely a losing battle.

So I turned away from her to look at my dinner, which, unfortunately, had not fared too well because of Edward's very distracting visit to the kitchen. My mind raced as I began to mull over the implications of what had just happened, but I couldn't really get an full grasp on it, because Alice was still standing right in front of me, impatiently tapping her foot, waiting for some sort of explanation.

What the fuck, I thought. I'd been dying to talk about it with someone, anyway.

"Look, Alice," I began, giving up on my sauce and turning to face her. "I know what you're going to ask me, and I really wish I had more answers for you, but I just don't. I'm even more clueless about what just went down than you are."

She wasn't buying it. "I know what I saw. You and my brother, my psychotic, over dramatic, moody, and impossible to get along with brother were seriously just about to kiss! That's not something that just randomly happens, at least not with Edward."

"I can't respond to that, because I don't know him well enough to say what does and what does not happen with him." This was relatively true. Edward was the guy who for, whatever reason, had initially told me he couldn't be anywhere near me because I reminded him of someone. Then, Edward was the guy who sat beside me in Creative Writing and read the most amazing poetry I'd ever heard out loud to the class. Next, Edward was the guy who shared cigarettes and music and quiet with me for nearly every evening after that. Edward was also the guy who took me for a midnight walk in the woods, and wrapped his arms around me when I fell asleep to make sure I didn't get cold. Edward was the guy who ignored me again for some unknown reason afterwards. And now … now Edward was the guy who had seriously lit a fire underneath me by a non-kiss. I was still a bit shaky from everything that had just transpired in less than a matter of minutes, and I leaned against the kitchen counter for support.

Edward and I almost kissed. I thought those words very plainly and tried to wrap my brain around it. Edward had wanted to kiss me. I had wanted to kiss Edward. My crotch was vibrating with excitement from just the sheer possibility of a kiss. I shifted uncomfortably, seriously embarrassed that zero physical contact by Edward had been the closest thing to sexual ecstasy I had ever experienced. I wanted to go upstairs and take a cold shower, or at least change my underwear. But Alice wasn't helping any, and I swore that girl had the ability to see straight through me.

"Bella," she said, coming up beside me and smiling apologetically. "My brother is an ass. I mean, I love him to death, and if ever lets you in enough to see it, he can be the most amazing guy ever. But you've only known him three weeks. He's never let anyone in that quickly … especially not a girl."

I sighed. In almost every way, Alice was completely right. Edward WAS an ass. He'd never treated me with anything but indifference until lately, and even that was in random, unpredictable spurts. And even then, I had always felt as if I were just waiting for him to suddenly decide he didn't want to be around me anymore. It had already happened twice; I wasn't out of my mind to expect it.

"Alice," I told her, "in maybe the mildest possible sense, Edward and I are sort of friends. We hang out at night sometimes, and we have a class together."

"You hang out with Edward? You mean … willingly? Like it's your choice?"

"Alice! Why are you freaking out? He's YOUR brother, and, I happen to enjoy his company. He's not half bad when he's not being an asshole."

Alice smirked at me, her eyes lighting up with devilish glee. "You totally like him." She said it as a statement, not a question, and I felt my skin heating up without my consent. I turned away from her, back to my ruined sauce, and began stirring as if I could somehow salvage it. She came closer, still behind me, but out of the corner of my eye I could see that she was still wearing that ridiculous grin, and her eyebrows were cocked as if she was considering saying something or setting a plan in motion.

"I don't like him," I said once some of the warmth in my skin had faded. "I mean, why the fuck would I? He's so impossible, Alice, I swear," I could feel the words pushing up right out of me, and the verbal vomit and truth would likewise come sputtering out. "He's so intense, and he can give you this look that is just completely murderous … as if he's seriously contemplating how to kill you. And then, other times, he just looks so sad, like he's broken, and all he needs is some taking care of. I can't figure him out, and part of me wants to, but the other is just waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to AGAIN realize that he doesn't want to have anything to do with me. So, no, Alice … I don't like him, because if I did, then that would actually mean that I'm totally naive to the situation and to who Edward Cullen really is."

I took a deep breath, the rush of speaking so openly about Edward like taking a needle to a balloon and letting all of the air out. It was such a relief; it was as if by finally talking to someone about it, I had somehow validated that all of it had really happened, even though Alice still wasn't aware of all those little details. But I looked over at her, and a knowing smile was apparent on her face, and I felt the comfort of confessing something to a friend who was not going to in any way judge me or make me feel stupid about having the feelings and insecurities that I had.

"I don't think you're naïve," Alice said, putting her hand on my shoulder and lightly squeezing it. "A little vulnerable, maybe, but never naïve. Even though he's my brother, I can understand the allure. He's intimidating to the point where it almost stops working, and instead you just want to figure him out."

She caught my eye and raised her eyebrows in solidarity. "It wasn't easy for even Edward and I to get close. I know he doesn't really let people in from experience. It took a lot from him to trust me, but he really hurt me in the process, as well. That was years ago, and so we're both over it, but Edward, as his core, is still very much the same."

"Maybe you're right," I sighed with defeat. If Edward had put Alice through something similar when he first met her and they were able to get past it and eventually become friends, then maybe there was some sort of hope for our relationship after all.

Of course, noting that my knees were still weak and my hands were still trembling from Edward's sheer physical proximity only moments before, I knew that I really didn't want to just be friends with him. I wanted to have that honey sweet breath on the tip of my tongue and see if his skin tasted the way that it smelled. I wanted to run my hands over his stubbly facial hair; I wanted to hold it between my teeth and run my mouth all over the contours of his jaw. I wanted to press my palms against the peaks of his chest. I wanted him primitively; there was nothing innocent about it. I had never really let myself think about it before, since the idea of Rosalie had always been in the forefront of my mind. But now that she was out of the picture, and apparently, very much involved with Emmett, the idea of those sounds coming from my mouth was a much easier one to consider. He was single, and even if he wasn't the least bit interested in me that way, at least there wasn't some gorgeous blond standing in my way.

I thought about what he'd last said, before he left, how the moment was "fucking gone," and I bit my lip in regret. I hadn't meant to say what I'd said, I just wasn't sure if Alice was going to be upset or not, and I didn't want Edward taking the fall for whatever had happened. And secretly, I was really afraid he was going to say the very thing that had come out of my mouth, and I was terrified of how it would feel for him to admit that almost kissing me would have been a mistake. So yeah … I panicked and I'm a coward and I said something untrue and possibly hurtful because I was trying to protect myself.

I knew what I had to do. But that would all come later; for now, I still had to do what I could to salvage this evening, and this dinner, before Dr. Cullen came in wondering what the hell was taking so long.

"Can we talk about this later, Alice? Everyone's starving, and I've got to put a new cream sauce on the stove before the questions start coming."

"I'll help you," she said. "But, my dear Bella, we will talk about this later. Okay?"

I sighed with acceptance. I was really beginning to love Alice dearly and consider her to be the first female friend I'd ever had, but who knew girls could be so demanding?

***

After dinner, after everyone had gone to bed, I sat in the empty kitchen with the lights off, waiting for Edward to come home. Okay … it was a bit stalkerish and maybe a smidge pathetic, but I wasn't going to let him get away with doing the disappearing act again. I was sick of the silence and I was definitely sick of his indifference. We were going to talk about this, and we were going to do it now.

I took a swig of tequila and winced as it coarsely burned my throat. I had a plan in mind, one that had usually found me in a fair amount of trouble in my earlier days. But I had to take action, and I had to do it quickly, because there was no way I was going to let more awkward avoidance pass between me and Edward. So I sat in the kitchen, chugging back the alcohol like it was water, and waited for him to come home.

Forty five minutes later I was past the point of belligerence, and so my resolve to figure this thing out had only strengthened. There's nothing like liquid courage, I thought wistfully to myself. But there was still a little piece of me, though small and now somewhat muffled out by copious amount of tequila, that was worried that Edward was a) not going to come home, and b) not going to want to talk to me when he did.

But at that exact moment the kitchen door opened, and in he stepped, hair wild and a little wet from the mist outside. He didn't see me yet and so I took this chance to really mull him over, and I was again struck by his quiet and effortless beauty. He wore his faded dark jeans that were blissfully snug in the crotch and the same old leather jacket that he seemed to never be without. The warmth that was blossoming from below spread like a stain and I shifted in my seat unconsciously, causing Edward to notice my presence and turn his eyes toward me.

But it was not a bitter look that he cast my way. It was alarmed, confused, maybe, as he seemed to be trying to make sense out of my casually sitting on the bar stool eagerly clutching a bottle of Jose Cuervo to my lips.

"Hola, Edward!" I cried, thrusting the bottle up to emphasize my greeting. "We are going to have a conversation, you and I. I brought a friend so the awkwardness is not so much." He raised in eyebrows at me, his face a little hard, but then he broke off into a slight smile and chuckled in response.

"Who's your friend?" He moved to sit opposite me on the other side of the counter, and I noticed how he was still so much taller than me even while sitting down. I tried to elongate myself by stretching forward in the stool but I somehow ended up falling backwards and onto my ass on the floor. I clutched the bottle protectively over my chest as Edward jumped up and was very quickly at my side.

"My friend's name is Jose. Jose is sometimes not the nicest, because he ruins my coordination." Edward was crouched beside me, sitting on the balls of his feet, his eyes all scrunched together as if my falling was really worrisome.

"You should be careful. You could have fallen on your head and not your backside."

I laughed very loudly. "You are so proper sometimes. I fell on my ass, Edward. It's okay to say it in front of me; I won't be offended."

He looked very puzzled, as if there was some great debate going on in his head, but then he shrugged and sat cross legged with me on the tile floor. Our knees almost touched as we sat in the same position, and I really wanted to inch forward to close the distance. He reached over and took the bottle from my hands, and threw his head back and took a deep swig. I was impressed. Edward could take one back.

He passed the bottle back to me and I took a swig, but with much less grace than Edward had. Tequila slopped out of my mouth and onto my chin and dribbled down my neck to my shirt. I giggled at the mess I'd made of myself; I was a sloppy drunk, but I never seemed to care in the moment. I was too busy relishing in the fact that the alcohol had allowed me to finally really think and consider all the faint ideas that I had been pushing away for so long now. Here he was, here Edward was, sitting right beside me on the marble floor, sipping back tequila as if we'd been friends for years. None of the previous awkwardness seemed to matter.

"I didn't know you were a drinker," Edward said after I'd passed the bottle back to him.

"Really, baby, there's not a lot that you do know about me. You're too busy telling me you have to avoid me or listening to your goddamn headphones to ask me any questions. I am really sooo layered, Edward. Look!" To help prove my point, I stood abruptly, about to do the thing I swore I would never do, especially under such circumstances. I lifted the hem of my shirt up and the waist of my jeans down, exposing the raised and splotchy ink that was tattooed right below my hip bone. I could see Edward's eyes blink in surprise, and his hand lifted towards me, as if he wanted to trace the tattoo with his fingers. Ours eyes met, and despite the alcohol, I was suddenly embarrassed, and I pulled my shirt down quickly.

"What does _3/16/2005_ stand for?" The question was inevitable, and yet even though I had shown it to him, I still wasn't really prepared to answer. But I had no choice, really.

"It's the day my parents were killed," I whispered. We were quiet for a long moment, and Edward took the bottle of tequila from me and swallowed down two long swigs, and suddenly the bottle was empty. I was completely drunk, and had been for the last hour, and peeking at Edward's bloodshot eyes and bobbing head, I could tell he was right there with me. Good, I thought. Maybe for once, we'll be in the same place at the same time.

"My parents are dead, too," he said. "Well, my mom is, and my dad … he may as well be. He ran out on us when I was a kid." We stared at each other, and suddenly the moment felt too heavy to be comfortable to either of us.

"Let's play a game," I suggested, inching forward and propping my elbows on my knees. "Do you have anything else to drink in here?"

"Yeah, Carlisle's got a liquor cabinet up in his office." He stood abruptly, and reached his hand down to pull me up. I pondered his extended wrist, and grew irrationally excited, and an girlish giggle escaped from my lips. Edward pulled me up, quickly and with too much force, and we were eye to eye, although he was much taller than I, so his head had to lean down pretty far to meet my gaze. He smiled seductively at me, and it was a look I had never seen him give. All of the expressions I'd ever received from Edward had always been on the far side of somber, and now no bitter grey was dulling his light. I smiled back at him, and he turned away, pulling me by my wrist to follow him.

He led me up the curving staircase, and though Edward was leading me, he was going much too fast for me to keep my balance, and I tripped a couple of times, each fall ending with my face dropping in defeat and then winding up in an explosion of laughter from the both of us. When we finally made it to Dr. Cullen's office, Edward turned to me and held his index finger to pursed lips. "Shhh!" he commanded, and there was a devilish gleam to his eyes. He winked at me, and led me into Dr. Cullen's office.

The office was a room I had not yet entered, as I had mostly kept my presence confined to my bedroom and the kitchen. It was dark mahogany everywhere, the walls, the furniture, and ebony leather touches complimented the rich interior. Edward let go of my head and walked over to the desk and switched on the lamp, which illuminated the room in a soft yellow glow. He walked over to a cabinet behind it, and opened it which revealed a wide assortment of dark and light colored liquor. The gleam in Edward's eye was even more devilish. I clutched my hands to my chest and squealed.

"Now, since you were so kind to introduce me to your friend Jose, I am going to introduce you to my friend, Mr. Patron." He pulled out a bottle and shook it for emphasis. "He's a little classier than your friend, and he goes down a bit smoother. Once you meet my friend you'll never talk to your friend again."

"Is that a fact? Give me a taste, and I will be the judge." But because I was already so drunk, I couldn't tell the difference from one type of alcohol to the next, but it did go down quite smoothly.

"Okay, mister smarty pants, bring your friend over here, because we're going to play a game." Again we sat cross-legged on Dr. Cullen's Persian rug, again facing each other, again knees almost touching. I took the two glasses Edward had brought down from the cabinet and filled them half way, and handed Edward his.

"So this is how it goes. It's called 'I've Never …' We each will take turns saying some type of statement, like, 'I've never drank tequila,' and if either of the players have done it, they have to take a drink. Get it?"

"Sounds easy enough. Do you want to go first?"

"Yes, me first, it's my game." I paused, trying to think of a good starter question. "Okay, here goes: I've never gone skinny-dipping." Very quickly I took a sip of my drink, noticing Edward's surprised smirk and the fact that his drink remained still in his left hand.

"Hmm … Ms. Bella Swan. I guess you're a bit of a dare devil. I think I like this game … getting to know the finer side of you."

"Oh, don't be an ass, Edward, and just play the game!"

"Yes, ma'am." He theatrically raised his eyebrows and stroked his chin as if he were thinking really hard. "Okay … I've never had sex." Obviously Edward was saying this just to get an answer out of me, as we both very well knew that he was no virgin. I sighed, bit my lower lip seductively, and took a sip of my drink at the same exact time as Edward. Again his eyebrows raised, and he grinned a bit triumphantly.

"Now, Ms. Bella, one has to wonder, since Question Number One of this game exposed your enjoyment of swimming in the nude, and Question Number Two has just unveiled your lack of chastity, again, one has to wonder, did both of events ever occur at the same time?"

"That is not part of the game, Edward!" I said indignantly. I could feel myself getting redder by the second. I was suddenly very hot, but I wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment or because I was falling over the edge of belligerence or because Edward's face was just inches from mine, and my heat from below was flaring up again. It was incredibly thrilling having a sexually themed conversation with Edward, even if a lot of it was centered around him teasing me, especially about things I wouldn't have been comfortable talking about in normal circumstances. But these were not normal circumstances: we were drunk, we were giddy, and we were inches away from each other and I had not the slightest inclination of backing away, and I was guessing he didn't either.

"The point of the game," I continued, "is to find out what each other has and has not done. Elaboration on those things is not in the rule book."

"Fine." He was closer still, and our noses were almost touching, much similar to the compromising stance we'd been in in the kitchen hours earlier. "I believe it's your turn, Miss Provocateur."

"Yes, it is," I whispered. "I've never been in love." I backed away from his face then, so sure that Edward was going not to take a drink from his glass. But he surprised me again, as both of us raised our drinks to our lips hesitantly, taking the smallest sip possible, as if the amount of liquid consumed in that moment would have diminished the enormity of the topic. If someone were to have asked me days earlier if I had ever been in love before, I would have responded with a resounding 'no.' But for some reason, sitting in this softly lit room with Edward, it felt wrong to say no. It both shocked and frightened me, and I had no idea why.

"You've been in love before?" he asked, and through my drunken stupor I could slightly detect the faintest edge of disappointment as he ran a hand through his hair and sucked his full lips into his teeth.

"I don't know," I said as honestly as I could. "But if I'm not sure, then I shouldn't say no, right?"

"But I think that's the thing about love. I think you're supposed to know."

"But maybe it's not as black and white as everyone says it is. Maybe it's just … there, you know? And maybe it's not textbook, but it's still enough to make you wonder." Truthfully, until this very moment, I had never really considered the possibility of love, but I had unwittingly been struck by the notion to bring it up. And it felt strange, and yet oddly familiar speaking about it with Edward. The tequila gave me nerves I would have never had, and I wanted to tell Edward right then and there that I was madly and completely in love with him, even though I wasn't sure if that was even the real and honest truth.

"Your turn," I said, hoping to avoid any further discussion on the topic.

"I've never made love before," he said softly. He set his drink down firmly, as if to solidify his response. I set my drink down too, and I looked down from it and up at him, and our eyes locked. It was a moment of complete and utter understanding. And I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol dimming my inhibitions or if it were just Edward himself, but something deep within me completely shifted in that moment. And I think we both knew: there was no turning back.

I pushed my drink completely aside, and, without hesitation, moved to kiss Edward Cullen.

* * *

Okay – I am totally evil, I know. But leaving it at this point will inspire me to update faster, especially since I've already continued writing it. What will also help are reviews that let me know people are still reading, because it HAS been forever. Thank you … you all are amazing.


	10. Parabol

I know I promised this sooner – forgive me! A/N after the chapter. Oh, and please note – this story is rated MATURE for a reason. Keep that in mind whilst reading.

* * *

Chapter Ten: Parabol

_We barely remember what came before this precious moment,  
Choosing to be here right now. Hold on, stay inside...  
This body holding me, reminding me that I am not alone in  
This body makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion_.(mjk)

**EPOV:**

It was the tattoo that did me in. Well, not really the tattoo itself, as I'm usually not really partial to girls going out and getting themselves inked. It was the actual lifting of her shirt and lowering of her jeans that unraveled me. It was the exposing of her hip bone that sent a rush of blood first to my head, leaving me a bit stunned, and then lower until it reached my crotch.

And I thought: I am done for. This girl will be the end of me, and that is it.

There was no turning back after that; after learning about her losing her parents; after discovering that she was in fact, not chaste or innocent in the slightest. She had been through shit, maybe as much as I had. She had come through it, in one way or another. And now she was drunk, as was I, and leaning with her elbows propped up on her knees and her chin resting lazily on her palm. I liked this side of Bella, and I liked it because it unveiled another a side of me, a side that I very carefully and secretly tuck away so as not to accidentally expose it to anyone. This side of Bella was fun and flirty, and it made me feel fun and flirtatious as well. Suddenly, everything was not all morbid and cynical as it usually had to be. It was simple, and even obvious: I was sitting next to a girl I liked, I was flirting with her, and I was getting drunk. Life really couldn't get much better.

Except I had to get all honest on her. Who knows if she could read between the lines, but suddenly in that stupid little game we were playing, the topic of "love" came up, and I was unable to say that I hadn't been in love before. How the fuck does a person know if they're in love anyway? I sure as hell didn't feel like I was, and I wasn't going to fuck around and try to pretend that the love that I was claiming to have felt had been directed from Rosalie. But fucking tequila – it always makes me all lopsided, and maybe even a smidge introspective, and in that moment saying that I had never been in love before would have been like saying I'd never smoked a cigarette. A downright lie, regardless of how much bullshit I would really have to make an effort to muddle through before I got there.

I wasn't in love with Bella Swan. But the thing was, I also wasn't NOT in love with her. What a mess of an otherwise manageable situation. Maybe it was Mr. Patron talking, but admitting that I had been in love before was the easy part. Not so easy would be thinking about the implications of it after the buzz wore off.

But that would all have to come later. At that moment, Bella Swan's hipbone was still very much on my mind, as were the loose chestnut curls that fell between her fingers as she leaned comfortably against her hand. Her eyes were glassy and a bit red from all the drinking, yet they were still warm, still so goddamn inviting. My senses felt extremely heightened, and her scent was fucking intoxicating. It was calling to me, inviting me in; a fucking swan song. I would have laughed if I wasn't so goddamn turned on.

We had both just silently admitted that we'd never made love with anyone before, and I wanted to smack myself and pour the tequila out for letting myself be so fucking open. Why were we talking about this? Why had I brought it up? I had never even thought about the act of "making love" before, not until now. Fucking had worked just fine for me. But making myself push Rose away and abandon that situation probably unearthed a whole other multitude of unconscious thoughts that were pertinent to my sex life. I stopped fucking Rose because I was sick of fucking. It was really as simple as that.

I wanted to know what it would be like to sleep with someone I really liked. To be intimate with a girl I was growing to care about, a girl that I was finding quite beautiful, a girl that there was a possibility of being in love with.

But I didn't really have time to really make any sort of decision, because Bella was leaning in, her elbows now off of her knees and her palms on the carpet, and her lips were suddenly pressing against mine.

The reaction was innate and primal. All the thoughts about possibly loving Bella went right out the window. I wanted to feel her, really fucking feel her, and not any of the "feel her heart" or "feel her mind" bullshit. I was hungry for her in a way that I'd never felt before, a way that not even Rose had managed to drag out of me. The contemplation of this fact was quite simple and straightforward: as much as I wanted to get to know Bella Swan, I also wanted to have sex with her. And do a few more little things along the way.

Her lips were soft and supple against mine as they met with the lightest pressure. Though drunk, I could tell she was hesitant, and I immediately wanted to embrace her and soothe all and any of her insecurities away and compliment her on being brave enough to have made the first move. I sucked her bottom lip softly, and then harder, which made an elicit moan escape feverishly from her lips.

So really, I guess you could say the tattoo really wasn't the end of me after all. It was that moan, that tender yet zealous moan, that made me lose control of all my senses and sent my desire spinning radically over the edge.

**BPOV:**

Everything went very quickly after that.

Though I went with my instincts and leaned in to kiss Edward, as soon as my lips touched his, I felt slight hesitation coarse through me. All the "what ifs" started spinning through me, and my drunken haze seemed to glaze over when I considered the consequences of kissing a person who may not want to kiss me back.

But Edward reacted just the way I'd hoped; better even, as he parted his mouth open, overwhelming my senses with his honey-sweet breath, and took my bottom lip into his teeth. His lips and tongue were soft and wet and velvet everywhere, and feeling all that contrasted with the surprisingly sharp pressure of his straight white teeth sent me over the edge. Unwillingly, I moaned.

With that Edward's soft supple kisses suddenly turned into quick and desperate ones, as his mouth and tongue and teeth were seemingly everywhere: my lips, my throat, my chin, my ears. His passion initiated my passion, and I returned the kisses in the same exact manner.

His head bent to suck the curve of my neck, which caused another moan to escape from my lips. This made Edward growl with excitement, and his teeth scraped the hollow base where my neck and shoulder meet, and I bent my head back to give him better access. Edward seized this as an opportunity to journey his mouth upwards against the length of my neck, and so I stretched further. The sensations were unlike any I'd ever experienced, and a wave of drunkenness hit me hard and fast, though I couldn't tell if I was drunk off the alcohol or simply off of Edward himself.

I was still sitting cross-legged at this point, with Edward leaning into me, his knees on the floor and his arms extended to support himself as he licked me up with fervor. He made his way up to the curve of my chin, and he extended his tongue, trailing the tip lighting across my jaw-line. He made his way to my ear again and took it into his mouth, his tongue flicking my ear-lobe with both tenderness and passion. He released it and moved his tongue up to the tip of my ear and lingered there for a second. I half expected him to whisper something to me, but his hesitation broke, and his mouth was back against mine, our tongues clashing and reeling and reveling in the explicit wonders of heated embrace and exchanged saliva.

I wanted more of Edward, and I peeked my eyes open and lowered them to his crotch. His pants were much more than just blissfully snug now: they were fucking ready to pop. My mouth twitched upwards with excitement and I put my hands against his chest and pushed him down, making him lie fully extended against the lovely Persian rug. His eyebrows raised with surprise, but he bit his lip in anticipation. His eyes were hooded but still permeating luscious green waves, and I wanted to melt within them, as corny and as ridiculous as that sounds.

I straddled Edward, folding my knees down on either side of him, placing my crotch in perfect residence right upon his. I wondered if he could feel the wetness and heat that was exuding from me down there, but then I thought that that was stupid, as we were both wearing jeans.

Regardless of our attire, though, I wanted to feel him, and I wanted him to feel me, so I moved myself slowly back and forth over his bulge. I watched as Edward's eyes rolled back and his mouth opened, and this time it was he who moaned.

I placed my hands on his chest and rubbed them lightly over his muscled counters, my fingers lingering in momentary admiration of his physique. I grinded my hips further, moving back and forth with no trepidation, and Edward reached his arms over and put his hands under my shirt, pressing against the small of my back.

I leaned down and kissed him, my hair spilling over and getting in the way. He put one hand on my head and tangled his fingers in my hair, rubbing one thumb underneath my ear affectionately in the process.

The kisses were deep and lusty now, no longer sweet and hesitant or quick with adrenaline. Our mouths worked in effortless unison, so unlike the kisses I'd shared with men before. There was no question of where to turn a head or when to caress a tongue; we were so physically in tune that I had to ask myself if it was just my drunken mind and sexual frustration playing tricks on me.

"I want to feel you," Edward groaned, his hands against my back again, pressing with slight aggression. "I want to feel all of you."

I wasn't sure if this meant that we were moving forward in the sexual stages of a hookup or not, but I didn't give a fuck. I wanted to feel him—all of him—too.

"Okay," I whispered into his mouth. I pulled myself back into a sitting position, my crotch and his still perfectly aligned. Our eyes caught, and if I'd had just one more shot I would have had the gall to wink at him. I pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it carelessly to the side. His eyes left mine as I watched him scan my near-naked body. His eyes became even more glazed over with lust, though I hadn't thought it possible.

He raised his hands upwards, as if begging for mercy. "May I ?" he asked, and I almost laughed at his overt politeness. As if I wasn't fucking begging for it already. I didn't want to answer him; I felt my voice would crack and bubble with obvious sexual desire, so I took his hands and firmly pressed them on my breasts. His eyes widened but his palms spread, and I left my hands on top of his.

My nipples hardened at the touch of his warm hands, and Edward's dick shifted underneath me. Our bodies were reacting in place of our minds, but I didn't care. Drunk or not, Edward's hands on my breasts and his dick under me was the best goddamn thing I had ever felt in my life.

His hands contracted and cupped the swell of my breasts, and my hands left his as I threw my head back again, moaning without caring this time. My moans really seemed to excite him, because he thrust his hips upwards, and as we were positioned his bulge rubbed just right against my clit. Of course, this really excited me, and I rubbed back up against him.

I leaned forward against his hands, willing him cup my breasts with all his strength. His fingers moved in circles around my nipples, and I could feel the tips of them pressing anxiously against my bra. My breasts wanted out of my bra and I wanted my bra off of my breasts. I knew Mr. Proper wouldn't take it off himself, at least not without a little encouragement.

I nuzzled my head against his neck and pressed my mouth against his ear. "Take it off," I whispered, the tequila highly improving my seduction techniques. He groaned again, his hips jerking and his dick pressing even harder against my clit.

"Fuck, Bella," he sighed, his words sending shivers down my spine. My heat below flared again.

His hands reached behind me and he unclasped my bra with the ease of a guy who certainly knows what he's doing. His hands moved slowly toward my shoulders, his fingers intertwining in the straps as he pulled my bra down, the trail of his fingers leaving sparks against my skin. He looked deeply into my eyes before he casts the bra aside. I felt like he was trying to tell me something, but I can't imagine what it is. But there was a pained look in his eyes, not quite sad, but not quite purely sexual either. I wondered what expression he was reading from my eyes, and I hoped the fact that I am so enamored with this situation and with the presence and smell of him was not too obvious.

No matter though, really; we were here, we were in this moment, and I wanted Edward Cullen more than I've wanted anything in my life.

Once the bra is gone his hands moved up my sides, lightly pressing against my ribs, until his fingers meet the bottom curve of my breasts. He tucked his thumb under the weight of my breast and my ribs, and my breathing comes out rapid and uneven, the heat of everything almost becoming far too much for me to bear.

His eyes finally leave mine as his eyes move downward to take in the sight of my naked chest. Soon enough his breathing came out to match mine exactly. He spread his hands over my breasts, my nipples hard between his fingers.

His eyes flickered up to mine momentarily, and I could barely make out their green from underneath his deep set and heavily hooded lids. Then his mouth was on my breast, and the sound that left my mouth was unlike any that I'd ever made before. His tongue flicked against my nipples tenderly, and then his mouth and teeth were sucking, sucking. He moaned between mouthfuls of my breasts, sending goose bumps all over my flesh.

He came up and his tongue was against mine again; the kisses heated and intense as though any second either of us might very well erupt. I knew I was just a second from exploding. But I wanted Edward closer, closer still; I hadn't nearly felt enough of him yet, and here he was, all muscles and arms and flesh and mouth and I felt as if I would die if I didn't have all of him that very second.

I lifted his shirt above his head, briefly wondering when his jacket had come off in the middle of it all. I almost gasped at the wonder that was Edward's naked chest; he was thin and yet heavenly toned, the curves of his chest and the slight trail of hair that led down into the waistband of his jeans almost sending me completely over the edge.

I wanted to lick ever inch of him, but Edward had other ideas, as he wrapped his arms tightly around me and pressed my breasts against his chest. He sucked my shoulder and I moaned in pleasure, as his hands moved upwards and downwards on my back.

"I want you so fucking bad," he moaned in my ear, and I swear I purred in satisfaction.

"I'm right here," I whispered back, my hands pulling his soft bronze hair while his mouth went back to intensely working on my neck.

"What do you want to do, Bella?" he asked softly. Didn't he already know? I thought I had a pretty good idea of what HE wanted to do, as my very swollen clit was still pressed up against his dick.

"I want you," I said.

"But is this too fast, too soon? I need to know … I've never done this before."

And those words almost stopped me cold. I pushed his chest away and looked him directly in the eye, a second away from kicking him in the balls instead of what I had been planning to do to them just moments ago.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I've fucking heard you and Rosalie, Edward! And the game … you just told me …"

"Stop," he said, pressing a finger against my lips. "I meant I've never done _this_ before, with someone I have feelings for."

A wave of shock slammed over me as I realized the magnitude of what Edward was telling me. Not only was he saying that all or any of the girls he'd slept with before hadn't meant a thing to him, but he was also admitting that he had a thing for me. Which, sad as it may seemed, was still surprising even considering the situation we were now in.

Most surprisingly of it all, I hadn't expected Edward to actually admit anything like that to me. After all, he always played the cold and distant card. Maybe Drunkward was someone I'd like to talk to more often …

But all I could say was: "Oh." But I smiled against his finger, and his hand moved to my chin, and he cupped it lightly while bringing my face to meet his. This kiss was tender and soft, almost like the first, but more honest, as if he were trying to convince me of his confession with lips and tongue.

Well, it worked.

"So, is this too fast, Bella? I need to know …"

"No," I sighed into his mouth. I grinded against his dick as if to prove my point.

He moaned again, laying back against the rug and writhing upwards to match my movements. Though I knew Edward already wanted me, I wanted him to really want me … I wanted to make him cry out my name and beg for more. The tequila made my blood soar, and I felt giddy with sexual power, the excitement of dominating over him too thrilling to bear.

"Tell me what you want," I whispered into his ear, licking my lips in satisfaction as his eyes rolled back with those words.

"I want you," he said helplessly.

"No, baby. Not good enough. Tell me what you want."

"I want to see if your pussy tastes as good as you smell," he said. His eyes widened at his own honesty, and I supposed the words just leaked right out of him. Edward winced as if embarrassed, but I only smiled at him.

"We'll get there," I said, reaching my fingers into the waistband of his jeans. I found his tip and stroked it lightly with my fingernail. I felt that some wetness from his dick had already leaked out. I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down, leaving him only in his heather grey boxers that clearly outlined the massive length of Edward Cullen. I sighed in satisfaction. This was in no way going to be disappointing.

I cupped my hand against his cotton covered bulge, squeezing his balls gently and rolling them between my forefingers. I couldn't tell one moan from the next with him, as he was letting them all fly out.

When I caught his eye I lowered my head down and pressed my face against his bulge, breathing hotly into it. He threw his head back with exponential force. I nuzzled my mouth in his boxers, taking one of his balls in between my teeth and rolling it lightly back and forth.

"Oh, fuck, baby," he moaned. I knew I was probably being evil at this point, so I finally pulled his boxers off, revealing Edward in all his glory. And oh, was it ever glorious.

I took his thick width and held it tightly in my hand, relishing in the touch of his velvety skin.

"Now, what do you want?" I asked, knowing very well the answer would be much different this time.

"I want my dick in your mouth," he trembled. His eyes averted to mine, worried again that he had gone too far. But I was probably more far gone than he; I was so heated and in the moment.

So, I put his dick in my mouth. He was much wider and longer than anyone I'd been with before, and because I hadn't performed such an act in a very long time, it took me a moment to get the rhythm down just right. But quickly enough, I got it, and I sucked and dove while fingering his balls at the same time.

Because there had been so much build up leading up to this, I expected that Edward wouldn't last very long, so when his dick began trembling in my mouth, I knew it would be only a moment or two. He groaned and tried to lift my head up, but I shook it slightly, letting him know that I was well aware of what to expect.

"Fuck, Bella … I'm gonna cum." And with one final shudder, Edward exploded into my mouth, and the taste was oddly reminiscent of honey, which almost made me laugh between swallows.

When I was finished, I sat up slowly, looking at Edward completely naked. His head lulled off into his shoulder, and he looked utterly exhausted. He opened his eyes and smiled crookedly at me, and my heart swelled suddenly, and I knew that I wanted him in so many other ways than just this. And maybe … maybe he wanted me too.

**EPOV:**

"You are a fucking goddess," I groaned, not caring how fucking far gone I was at this point and not caring how despicably honest I had been this entire evening. Bella had just given me the best goddamn blowjob of my life, something so outrageously fantastic even my wildest wet dreams couldn't have schemed something that hot. She was crazy sexy, especially now, with her hair all wild and her lips still pink from sucking me off. She was coy, but I wasn't about to let her off that easy. No way in hell.

"I still want what I said before." I propped myself up and spun her around, so now it was her lying on her back on top of the rug and me straddling her. She looked so fucking beautiful lying there, the swell of her tits fucking beckoning me to take them in my mouth. Patience, I told myself. There are bigger fish to fry.

She smiled lazily at me, her warm brown eyes all hooded and sex ridden as she looked at me. The tattoo, the moan, the eyes … they all would be the end of me. And I didn't fucking care, it could all end right now, and I would be happy. I would savor this, savor all of this. If I never fucked another girl in my life I wouldn't care. This could be enough.

I expertly unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down, revealing satin black boy cut panties underneath. And just like that, I was hard as a fucking rock again. Figures.

I placed my hand against her pussy, and it just radiated fucking heat and warmth and wetness. With my thumb against her clit, I rubbed gently, moving in paced circular motions, and I watched as her eyes lulled back and her head rolled around on the carpet. Good. It was her turn to moan.

Using both hands I slid her panties down and threw them to the side. I reveled in the fucking beauty that was Bella's naked pussy for a moment. There was not one centimeter of her that wasn't fucking gorgeous. I took my hand and pressed it lightly against the soft folds of her pussy. She was more wet than any girl I'd ever been with.

I rubbed my palm back and forth against her folds and wetness and rubbed some of the wetness against her bare thigh, wanting to make everything as wet and delicious as I knew her pussy would be. I lowered my head, and who would have thought – her pussy was fucking peonies and sage too. I would have laughed if it wasn't so predictable.

I lowered my mouth and licked my tongue lightly against her clit, making her squirm and sigh with both excitement and pleasure. It was swollen and pink and delicious. I kissed her folds and sucked her thighs, which made her twitch and moan even more.

But I knew what she wanted, and I was going to give it to her. I stroked my finger against her clit a little more, and then inserted them into the heavenly center that was Bella's pussy.

"Oh, FUCK, Edward," she cried, biting her lip and writhing around. She was so soft and wet and beautiful inside, and I thought of feeling her insides around my dick, and at that thought my dick was fucking throbbing and twitching around, too.

I pounded my fingers into Bella while rubbing her clit simultaneously. I couldn't help it, I had to cup my dick in my hands, it was getting pretty ridiculous, so I stroked myself while I thrust my fingers into Bella, her juices and scent and sounds illuminating all of my senses.

"Oh, baby, I'm gonna cum," she cried. Those were probably the most amazing words I'd ever heard, and as she came I came right along with her; her pussy contracting around my right hand as my cum spilled over my left. Our juices were both everywhere. I found my shirt and wiped my left hand up, while taking my right hand and putting it into my mouth.

Fucking divine.

* * *

Oh my GAH.

I totally just lost my virginity to you guys (or, at least made it to third) because this is my first explicit sex scene EVER. I've done some variations for short story classes, but nothing this overtly sexual. What do you think? Too much? Am I a detail hoarder? I'm very nervous about this, so feedback would ease the pain. 

Anyway, I left it at this point for a reason, though I know you guys want to know how they parted. I think it's better this way. Don't hate me …


	11. Sleeping Beauty

So the lovely and talented lucylu0508 made me a thread over at twilighted dot net. So come hang out and chat with us, if ya will.

A/N after the chapter.

* * *

Chapter 11: Sleeping Beauty

_Make it right for you sleeping beauty_

_Truly thought_

_I can magically heal you _(mjk)

**EPOV:**

I was dreaming of my mother. Her face was shining brightly at me, her beauty a revelation before cancer; her eyes were widened and her mouth was moving, but I couldn't get a grasp of what she was saying. She started laughing then, and I reached for her, but my hand glided right through her, as if she were made of air. Realizing this, that she was impenetrable, she started laughing even harder. Tears sprang from my eyes as I tried to beg her not to go. She just shook her head and pointed at something behind my shoulder. When I turned around and looked, there was nothing there. And when I went to face my mother again, she was disappearing, her face cancer ridden again, fading into nothingness as if she never had existed in the first place.

***

I came out of my dream slowly, which was unusual for me, as I'm prone to jolt out of subconscious with sudden and frightened alarm. I felt very warm though, and very comfortable, so I clenched my eyes tighter, not wanting to let go of the image of my mother, regardless of how fleeting or sad it might be.

But something stirred next to me, and at the movement my eyes fled open. I was lying on Carlisle's rug in his office, and I was completely naked. As if that weren't alarming enough, Bella Swan was beside me with her back turned to me, her shoulders rising and falling in the synchronized breathing of sleep. Oh, and she was completely naked as well.

It hit me then like a rush. The woods, the tequila, the game, the kissing, the mutual head. The head on my shoulders spun and it felt like a fucking rock was pounding relentlessly at it. And my head down under awakened at the memory, twitching at the fine recollection of Bella Swan's mouth wrapped around my cock.

I shook my head fiercely as if to dispel the vivid imagery. I tried to stand but the weight of my head forced me back down, and so I pulled myself into a sitting position, rubbing my temple while trying to ignore the boner Bella's perfect back was giving me.

I was in a foggy place as far as my memory was concerned. Physically, my body seemed to remember everything that had went down between us a couple of hours ago. But mentally … I wasn't sure how it had felt, or even more, what exactly had been said.

What a fucking pussy. Go without drinking for a few months, and I wake up with something resembling a concussion. Whipping out the Patron was probably not the smartest idea I'd ever had.

With my chin perched upon my knees, I continued the thorough contemplation of Bella Swan's back. Her breathing was steady and soft; if my eyes had been closed, and I couldn't see the rise and fall of her shoulders, I would have been worried that her breathing had completely stopped.

Her shoulder blades jutted out delicately, and her skin was smooth and pale in the glow of the desk lamp. I looked at my hands, remembering the feeling of her skin against them. I was really fucking irritated with myself that every detail wasn't memorized, that each image came to me in random and unorganized spurts. Though my memories were muddled and my feelings certainly unclear, my body felt oddly linked to the sleeping frame that lay before me.

Trying to ignore the incessant pounding of my head, I crawled on my knees and leaned over her, trying to get a better look at her face. Seeing her, my breath caught in my throat, and the pounding of my head turned into a pounding of my heart. Her full pink lips were a bit swollen and puffed out, and her cheek rested on one hand. Her hair flowed from her head and fanned about her petite shoulders, the dark espresso of her curls contrasting beautifully against her white flesh.

She was so beautiful, and searing regret coursed through me that I could not, in fact, remember every single explicit detail of our time together. The dream I'd just had of my mother flashed in my mind, and for the first time, I resented the fact that I had fallen asleep and had had images of my mother, instead of staying awake and soaking up every single beautiful thing about Bella Swan.

Pussy, pussy, pussy, I chided myself. First a drunk concussion, then fucking roses and sunshine and violets.

But Bella was still completely nude, as was I, and ignoring my throbbing temples, I found my jeans, threw them on, and went into the hall to find a blanket wrap Bella in. In the hall closet, I pulled out the heaviest afghan I could find, and then went back into the office.

She was still laying in the same position. I crouched beside her and gently covered her with the heavy blanket, my hands lingering over her shoulders for a moment too long. Bella stirred just slightly, and though I didn't have the heart to wake her, I didn't want to leave her sleeping on the rug just for Carlisle to find her in the morning.

As softly as I could, I slipped my hands underneath her body and shifted her into my arms. She was so light, so warm, and it thrilled me to be holding her. The potency of her smell hit me again, but it no longer disturbed me the way that it used to. Though I dreamt of my mother while lying beside her, which probably had a lot to do with having slept so close to Bella, I was hardly reminded of her anymore. This smell, the sage, the peonies, the nutmeg – this was all Bella now.

Once I'd placed her carefully in my grip, I stood, and her head lulled until her forehead was nuzzled in my bare chest. She was perspiring lightly, and her skin was hot and feverish.

Careful not to disturb her, I went down the hall to her bedroom, pushing the door open with my bare foot. I'd never entered Bella's room before, and I half-heartedly scoured the room, appreciating the sparseness of it. Her bed was made, so I freed one hand while cradling her in the other and lifted the covers open, setting her in afterwards.

I went back to the office to get the rest of our clothes and went to the bathroom to get a damp towel. Entering Bella's room again, I lit a candle and slowly lowered myself to sit on her bed. I brushed the hair that was already damp with sweat from her forehead and pressed the cool cloth against her skin, hoping to suck some of the fever away from her.

Her lips quivered, and she started mumbling. I was worried that I had somehow been to rough and that I had woken her – but no, her breathing was still steady and sleep ridden.

Bella's mouth parted and let out a sigh. I wished again that I remembered everything. Those big beautiful lips of hers were so plump and swollen, and I knew I was the cause of it, and it killed me to think that I had damaged her in some way.

"Edward," Bella sighed, and I almost jumped at the sound of my name leaving her lips. She was talking in her sleep … she was talking in her sleep and she was saying my name. My heart was pounding wildly again, and I felt very hot all over.

"Don't do this again," she whispered. I wondered what I was doing, or what I had already done to make her say that. Leaving one palm pressing the damp rag to her forehead, I used my other hand to gently stroke the sides of her face. Her skin was so soft and smooth and warm, too warm, as she was probably a little sick.

My fingers finally rested on her chin, and I brushed the tip of my thumb against her lips. Her skin was so hot, it felt as if I had been burned.

I leaned in and lightly pressed my lips against hers. It lasted all of two seconds – I wasn't going to make out with her while she was passed out, but suddenly, all the memories of the evening came flooding back to me.

I remembered everything. And I would do everything in my power to never forget her again.

"I love you, Bella Swan," I whispered into her mouth.

I stole one last glimpse of her sleep induced serenity before blowing the candle out, casting the entire room in a blanket of darkness.

**BPOV:**

When I woke up I was on fire. I was even dreaming of fire, of whipping flames that turned from hot ember to a searing blue.

Opening my eyes, I realized I was completely covered in layers of blankets and I reached to throw them off of me, but I very quickly discovered that I was bare ass naked underneath. What the fuck?

Before I could blink, jumbled memories of my night with Edward rushed and filled my head. I tingled everywhere at the thought of it, but I also felt very, very sick. Pulling myself out of bed I found my robe hanging on my closet door.

Walking as slowly and steadily as I could as to not further aggravate my head, I made my way down the hallway and into the bathroom, where I promptly puked my guts out.

***

A couple hours later I heard my bedroom door open but I didn't have the strength to figure out who it was. I heard tiny footsteps, and felt a small, cold hand press against my forehead. I gasped at the touch of Alice's hand, it felt so amazing.

"I think she's really sick," I heard her say. I wanted to protest, but I couldn't move an inch. My mouth and limbs and body was putty; pounding, burning putty, but putty nonetheless.

"There's a very strong flu virus going around," Dr. Cullen said. Oh, he was in here too. Such a nice man. "I'll call the school – let them know she'll be out for a couple of days."

"Yeah right Carlisle, try the whole week," Alice snapped. She seemed angry, but I couldn't ask her why. I could say anything, and suddenly I was very, very tired, and listening to their voices just became too much for me.

I drifted off to sleep, dreaming mostly of fire. Then the fire would melt into ice, and I would dream of Edward's hands touching my face or Edward's lips brushing my skin. I wanted to reach for him, but I was strapped to the bed, my body far out of my control.

I'm not sure how much time passed. It could have been hours, it could have been days. People came and went in my room; I heard voices and murmurings but I couldn't piece any of it together. Cold hands and damp towels passed over me. I wanted to wake, but I was just so tired.

"Bella, Bella. Come on, Bella, you have to eat something."

I buried my face in my pillow. I had no appetite whatsoever; there was no way this voice was going to get me to eat anything.

But strong hands were lifting me up, propping me against pillows. I finally opened my eyes to see Edward sitting before me, holding something that smelled foul in his hands. He smiled shyly and lifting a spoon and held it in front of my face.

"No," I groaned. If I ate anything, I knew I was going to throw it back up.

"You haven't eaten in two days, Bella," Edward sternly said. Two days? Had I really been sick for that long? That snapped me right back into the present.

"I thought you should be taken to the hospital, but Carlisle assured me he'd be able to take care of you here. You have the flu. You haven't been able to keep anything down." He smiled sadly at me and moved the spoon closer to my face. "But you've got to try to eat. Please?"

"Okay," I said. I let him spoon feed me whatever was in that bowl, but I couldn't taste a thing. It was probably better that way, as I wasn't overcome with nausea like I thought I would be. "What the hell happened?" I asked him. I didn't understand how I could have suddenly gotten so sick.

"It's flu season," he said, spooning more food into my mouth. "It's pretty intense – everyone is sick. It's completely deserted at school. Even most of the teachers are out."

"So why aren't you sick?"

"I never get sick." He set the spoon down and his eyes were smoldering. "You really worried me, Bella."

"I did?" I asked dumbly.

"Yeah, you did." He lifted his hand as if to brush my cheek but instead he ran his fingers through his own hair. Had I just been out for a few days or was Edward more gorgeous than usual? I felt very light headed all of a sudden.

"I think I need to lie back down," I said. I was exhausted again, but I really didn't feel sick anymore. Just tired. The thought of what I must look like crossed my mind, and I wanted to bury myself further in the covers and never come out. I hated that Edward had to see me like this. But he was here … for whatever reason. It was so unlike him, really.

But I couldn't think about it anymore. I needed to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, Bella," he whispered, and I wasn't sure if I was already dreaming when I felt his cool lips press against my forehead.

***

It took me almost five days to feel back to normal. I didn't see Edward in my room since I first woke up, which made me feel both worry and relief. I told myself that it was odd that he was willingly spending time with me in the first place, so I shouldn't be upset over something I never expected to have in the first place.

It was a Saturday when I finally emerged from the confines of my bedroom. I had missed the whole week of school. According to Alice's reports, I hadn't missed much, as the entire school seemed to be going through exactly the same thing I had.

I was extremely grateful for Alice's company during my recovery. We watched the six seasons of _Sex and the City_ in succession and my head felt extremely full with sexual innuendos and snappy puns. Of course, it also made me think about the incident I had been both secretly relishing and trying to push out of my mind all week: my drunken hookup with Edward.

Though the flu had made everything pretty foggy, it really was the sexiest goddamn thing I had ever experienced in my life. I wanted it all to happen again. In the words of the ever so eloquent Carrie Bradshaw, I wanted Edward Cullen in my bed, bath and beyond. The beyond part was what I was still figuring out.

The house was empty as I made my way downstairs. Alice had told me that her and Jasper were driving to Portland for the evening and staying the night in a B&B. Rosalie and Emmett, officially a couple now, spent very little time at home, which I found semi odd, as since they both lived here, they had more access and freedom to whatever they wanted.

"I think they're taking their relationship outside the box," Alice told me halfway through Season Two. "Rosalie's never had a boyfriend before, and I think the fact that a guy is willing to date her and spend money on her is getting her off more than sex ever could."

"So her and Edward never went out?" Though Edward had blatantly told me before that he and Rosalie were not a couple, it was still a bit shocking that he had never taken her anywhere.

"Nope. They were never really into each other; they were just in it for the perks." She paused and looked me dead in the eye, hoping to get a good reaction out of me. "Why? Jealous?"

"Of course not," I said, pressing Play on the remote. I hadn't yet told Alice what had happened that night in Dr. Cullen's office. It wasn't that I was embarrassed … I just wanted to talk to Edward about it first. I had the sneaking suspicion that he didn't like his business broadcasted without his consent.

"Whatever you say, Bella," Alice said, complying to the fact that I wasn't yet ready to talk. She was a smart girl; she knew that something was going on. But I loved her all the more for not pressing me to talk about it before I was ready to.

I still felt extremely weak and I had to grasp the banister for support as I walked down the stairs. I hadn't had a cigarette in forever, and though I wasn't exactly craving the nicotine, I wanted a cig in my hands because I knew it would help me feel back to normal.

The house was extremely quiet, and I wondered where Edward was. I didn't really know anything about him, not what he does in his spare time or where he goes over weekends. He was a mystery, and he did it all on purpose. I was hell bent on figuring him out, though.

Before I could think any more of it, I saw him through the kitchen window, sitting in our spot, smoking a cigarette. He looked different, sexier than I remembered him being. Maybe it was just me and my rapidly developing feelings that had an influence on his appearance. Whatever the case, I didn't feel weak anymore. I felt excited to finally see him.

"Hey," I said as I went through the doorway and walked toward him. He lifted his head in surprise, and smiled crookedly at me. I had never seen that smile from him before. It was shocking and it almost took my breath away.

"Hey back," he said. He scooted over to give me room and patted the space beside him. I sat down, leaving a couple inches. I was afraid if I got too close I would maul him with my tongue. It was odd – I thought that being sick for five days would decrease my sexual urgency, but on the contrary, I felt like I was bursting with sexual energy. Maybe being stuck in bed for nearly a week without Edward had made me hyper-aware of him and my body and of everything I wanted him to do to my body.

But for now … for now I would calmly and quietly sit beside him and keep my hands to myself.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, taking a drag off his cigarette and stubbing it out. "You look much better."

"Thanks, but considering the fact that I looked like death incarnated this past week, that really doesn't mean much."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're finally out of bed." He caught my eye, and all the humor drained very quickly from his face. "But in all seriousness, Bella – you really scared me. It's hard for me to see someone … sick."

I suddenly understood very well. "Because of your mom," I said.

He sighed. "Yes. It was an extremely difficult thing for me to overcome. Whenever someone gets ill I kind of lose it." He shook his head and ran another hand through his hair. "Anyway, I really need to apologize."

"For what?"

"For what happened that night, Bella. I doubt you would have gotten as sick as you did if it wasn't for prior circumstances."

"Edward," I said, making sure my voice came out clear and steady, as not to give away the overwhelming nervousness that was seriously threatening to overtake my sense of control, "I had as much a hand in what went down as you did. Probably a bigger hand, in fact, as it was me who brought the booze out and started the rounds of drinking."

He laughed softly, and seem relieved, but still unconvinced. "Regardless. If I had known … if I had known how sick you would get I wouldn't have let all that happen."

"That's too bad," I murmured, ducking my head so he couldn't see the disappointment in my face. "I don't regret it for a minute."

"Hey," he said, and he lifted my chin so our eyes met. "That's not what I meant. Look, I don't know what's going on with us. I think there's probably a lot for us to work through. I don't care. Having you in my life, even before all the rest of it, has just made things so different for me."

He paused. He was struggling for his words. The most overly articulate person I had ever met was having a hard time forming the words to tell me that he liked me. My nervousness expanded into giddiness.

"You're just so unlike any girl I've ever met before. And I want to know you, Bella Swan. I want to really fucking know you."

"I want to know you too." The sun peaked through the afternoon haze and shined directly behind Edward's head, his bronze hair glinting streaks of red in the sunlight. Impulsively, I tucked a piece of it behind his ear. His eyelids fluttered closed momentarily. I let my hand linger before I slowly pulled it away.

He was too quick for that. He grabbed my hand before I bring it back to me. He smiled at me and rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb. My heart fluttered. He brought our entwined hands to his face and smoothed it against the light scruff on his cheek. Now it was my eyes that fluttered. I was weak again, but not from the effects of the flu or the fact that I hadn't really eaten anything. Edward was holding my hand, brushing it against his face, and I wanted to melt into his arms.

**EPOV:**

I wasn't quite sure what I was doing. Bella's fucking flu had really thrown me. Though there were no hospitals this time, the way it had made me feel was so similar to what I'd went through with my mother. Part of me wanted to shut down and run, and the other just wanted to take Bella into my arms and protect her the way that I couldn't protect my mother.

I guess I was deciding to go with the latter.

She'd taken me by surprise when she reached out and touched me. I was half expecting her to never want to talk to me again, because she could have very well blamed me for her getting so sick this past week. But she was choosing to here, sitting with me, touching my hair.

So I went with my instincts. I took her hand and brushed it against my lips. I closed my eyes and breathed her scent in. Even with the sickness it hadn't faded away one bit. I looked at her then, making myself remember that she had been sick, and she wasn't ready for anything at the moment. Maybe I wasn't either. But that didn't mean that I didn't really fucking want it.

"Alright then," I said, bring our hands down and standing. "It's time to eat, little one. I'm going to make you lunch."

She looked completely perplexed. "You can cook?"

I laughed. "I'm no Bella Swan in the kitchen, but there are a few dishes that I've mastered." I playfully pulled her hand and nodded my head to the house. "Let's get some food in you, okay?"

She smiled and nodded. And so we walked, hand in hand, into the kitchen so I could put some food inside the frail and illness ridden body that was beginning to mean so much to me.

* * *

A/N: So I know most of you were expecting some more s-e-x, but it just didn't feel right, at least not yet. There will certainly be more of that to come though, and certainly very, very soon. ;)

On a side note – I really tried to respond to everyone's comments, but I have a feeling I neglected a few. If I did, feel free to let me know, and I'll be sure to get back to you.

After the next 2-3 chapters, I have kind of a whammy curveball I'm sending your way. Be prepared, that's all I'm saying.

Thanks again to all you loyal (and new) readers and reviewers. See you soon …


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